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UTHOR 


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Arnold,  Thomas,  ^^J^^'^^^^^nals,  with  extracts 
^Arnold's  f^-«i^^|,^°r  London,  B.  Fellowes, 
from  the  Life  and  letters . 

1852. 

X,  c2. ,  221,  cl,  p. 

Ed.  by  Arthur  P«"^^y^^esSndence  of  Dr." 
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ARNOLD'S 


TRAVELLING   JOURNALS, 


WITH 


EXTRACTS 


Faox 


THE    LIFE    AND    LETTERS. 


LONDON: 
B.   FELLOWES,   LUDGATE    STREET. 

1852. 


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LONDON : 
GEORGE.  WOODFALL     AND    SON, 

ANOKL  COURT.  AKfNNKR  bTRRKT. 


7^13, 


It  lias  been  thought  advisable  to  throw  some  pait 
I  of  the  "  Life  and  Correspondence  of  Dr.  Aniold  " 

into  a  more  accessible  shape.     The  only  portion 
wliich  seemed  naturally  to  separate  itself  from  the 
rest,  and  at  the  same  time  form  a  compkte  whole 
in  itself,  was  that  which  consisted  of  Extracts  from 
the  Journals.     These,  accordingly,  have  been  given 
at  length,  as  they  appear  in  the  last  edition  of  the 
"Life   and    Correspondence."      It    has    also   been 
thought   that   the  volume   thus   formed   might  be 
rendered    more   extensively   useful   by  a   selection 
of  such    expressions  of  opinion  or   sentiment   on 
Educational,  Religious,  Pohtical,  and  Theological 
subjects   as   were   least  dependent  on  external  or 
temporiu-y  circumstances,  and  as  would  thus  convey 
a  correct  impression  of  his  feelings  and  conviction 
on  points  of  general  interest. 

It  will  be  obvious  that  these  selections  neces- 
sarily lose  much  of  their  force  by  separation  from 
their  onginal  context.  It  will  also  be  evident  tliat 
some  of  the  remarks  have  ceased  to  be  applicable 

a  >d 


i^&xls^  -rvk^(.^»^iliy 


IV 


PREFACE. 


from  the  change  of  circumstftnces  since  they  were 
^vritten.  Thus,  to  give  one  instance,  tlie  regret 
expressed  in  p.  51  must  have  heen  greatly  modified 
by  the  publication  of  such  historicjd  works  as  tliose 
of  Thirlwall,  Grote,  and  Macaulay.  Such  defects 
are,  however,  iuscpai'ablc  from  a  volume  like  the 
present,  and  do  not  aflect  tho  nbiccts  for  which  jt 
has  been  compiled.  ■;'„     .-^ 

A.  P.  s.'^ 

Aug.  23,  1862. 


CONTENTS. 


TRAVELLING  JOURNALS. 
I.  Tour  in  North  of  Italy,  1825. 

1.  Contrast  of  English  and  Italian  Peasantry         ...       3 

2.  Cliflf  above  the  Lake  of  Como  (first  visit)           ...       4 
8.  Genoa 5 

IL  Tour  in  Scotland,  1826. 

Comparison  of  Scotch  and  English  Education         .         .         .10 

III.  Tour  to  Rome  through  France  and  Italy. 

1.  Prayers  for  Royal  Families H 

2.  French  People 12 

3.  Approach  to  Rome  (first  visit) 13 

4.  View  from  the  Capitol  (Arch  of  Titus)      .         .         .         .15 
6.  Monte  Mario .17 

6.  Roman  Churches 18 

7.  Evils  of  Residence  Abroad 20 

8.  Meeting  with  Savigny 20 

9.  Coloueum 20 

10.  Rome  and  the  Campagna 22 

11.  Phiin  of  the  Po.— Italy  and  Prussia  ....     24 

12.  Cliff  above  the  Lake  of  Como  (second  visit)  .         .26 

IV.  Tour  in  Germany,  1828. 

1.  First  View  of  the  Rhine 27 

2.  Check  to  the  Roman  Conquests  in  Germany       .         .         ♦28 

3.  The  Elbe.— Rivers  and  Human  Life  .        .        .        .29 

V.  Toun  IN  Switzerland  .\nd  North  of  Italy. 

1.  The  Jura         . .     31 

2.  The  Mediterranean 32 


•  -t 


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VI 


CONTENl'S. 


3.  The  Lake  of  Como.— England  and  Italy  . 

4.  Chiavenna       .... 

5.  Ciiampagitc     .... 


VI.  Tour  in  the  same. 

1.  French  Liberals  at  Geneva 

2.  View  from  S.  Maria  del  Monte 

3.  Cliff  above  the  Lake  of  Corao  (third  visit) 

4.  Good  Influence  of  Italian  Clergy  on  WilU 

5.  Imitation  of  Herodotus    .... 

6.  Anniversarj  of  his  Wedding  Day     . 

7.  Visit  to  Niebuhr  at  Bonn 

8.  Germany,  France,  and  England 

VIl.  Tour  in  Scotland,  1831 

1.  Contrast  of  Scotch  and  English  Churches  . 

2.  Church  lieform 

VIII.  Tour  in  France. 

1.  Recollections  of  different  Visits  to  Dover  . 

2.  Chartres. — Good  and  Evil  of  Roman  Catholicism 


IX.  Tour  in  the  South  of  France. 


1.  Paris 

2.  France  and  England 

3.  Palace  at  Avignon  . 

4.  Plain  of  Crau. — Salon 

5.  Geneva  . 

6.  Roads  and  Railways 

7.  France   . 


PAftB 

.  82 
.  83 
.    36 


87 
89 
41 
48 
44 
45 
47 
50 


52 
54 


56 

69 


62 
68 
68 
64 
66 
67 
68 


X.  Tour  to  Rome  and  Naples  through  France 

and  Italy. 

1.  Orleans. — Siege  of  Orleans 71 

2.  Use  of  Images 72 

French  Geolugy.— Feudal  Castles 73 


3. 
4. 
5, 
6. 


8. 

9. 
10. 
11. 
12. 
13. 
14. 
15. 
16. 
17. 
18. 
19. 
20. 
21. 
22. 
23. 
24. 
25. 
26. 
27. 
28. 
29. 
50. 


contents. 

Ancient  and  Modem  Times 
Sunset  on  the  Mediterranean    . 

Italians 

Campo  Santo  at  Pisa 

Approach    to    Rome.  —  Tuscan    Population.  —  Sienna. — 

Scenery.  —  Radicofani.  —  Campagna.  —  Rome.  —  Athens. 

— Jerusalem 

Pantheon. — S.  Stephano  Rotondo. — Martyrs 

Appii  Forum  . 

Mola  di  Gaeta. — Cicero's  Villa 

Naples  .... 

Pompeii  .         .         . 

Geography  of  Samnium  . 

Aquila. — Church  of  England  at  Home  and  Abroad 

Vale  of  Rit'ti. — Moral  and  Natural  Beauty 

Ancient  City  Walls. — Watershed  of  the  Apennines 

The  Flaminian  Way 

Banks  of  the  Metaurus    . 


Classical  Inscriptions 
Papal  Government  . 
Modena. — Political  Freedom 
Italian  Switzerland 
Geography  of  Italy 
Swiss  History 
Swiss  Lakes   . 
Swiss  Lowlands 
Farewell  to  France 
Landing  in  England 
London  to  Rugby   . 
Arrival  at  Fox  How 


T" 


XI.  Tour  in  South  of  France. 

1.  Proipeeti  of  Theology 

2.  French  Scenery * 

8.  Gbscony         ♦«..,,. 

4.  Contrast  of  St.  Jean  de  Luz  and  Mola  di  Gaeta 


Vll 

PARR 

75 

7G 
78 
79 


80 
93 

95 
95 
96 
97 
99 
100 
102 
104 
108 
109 
110 
111 
113 
115 
116 
118 
120 
121 
122 
124 
125 
126 


128 
128 
129 
130 


fe  siwwPi^qiiPSfpiSssf ^  * 


▼m 


C0NTBWT8. 


5.  Frontier  of  Prance  and  Spain  . 

6.  Geography  of  Spain 

7.  Birthplace  of  Scaliger      . 

8.  Translation  of  the  Bible  into  French 

9.  Roman  Catholicism 

10.  Prospects  for  England 

11.  Prospects  for  France 


PAOB 

.  131 
.  132 
.  133 
.  133 
.  134 
.  134 
.  186 


EXTRACTS  FROM  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS. 


Education. 

1.  Private  Tuition       .         .         •         • 

2.  Learning  by  Teaching     . 

3.  Qualifications  for  Teaching 

4.  The  same 

6.  Qualifications  for  a  Schoolmaster 

6.  Qtt;ilificaiions  for  an  Assistant- Master 

7.  Need  of  Liveliness  in  Teaching 

8.  Difficulties  of  a  Public  School 

9.  The  same 

10.  The  same 

11.  The  same 

12.  Study    . 

13.  Translation 

14.  Study  of  the  Clasucal  LanguagM 

Practical  Christian  Lite 

1.  Difficulties  of  Religious  Life 

2.  The  same 

3.  The  same 

4.  The  same 
6.  Evil  of  Reserve 

6.  Want  of  Faith 

7.  Early  Death  . 

8.  Earnestness    . 


139 

140 

140 

141 

142 

142 

142 

143 

144 

144 

145 

147 

147 

148 


148 
150 
150 
151 
151 
152 
152 
153 


CONTENTS. 


IX 


Thoughtfulneit        .... 
Intellectual  without  Moral  Excellence 

The  same 

The  same 

Religious  Duty  of  cultivating  the  Intellect 
Profession  of  Christian  Principles     . 

The  same 

Christian  and  Pagan  Faith 
Universal  Consent  .... 
The  "  Times  will  not  bear  it "  . 
Indifference  to  Attacks     . 

Neutrality 

Difference  of  Tastes  and  Opinions     . 

Admiration 

Reverence 

Goethe's  Faust        .... 
Reverence  of  the  Scriptures      . 
Preparations  for  Holy  Orders  . 
Profession  of  Medicine     . 
Profession  of  a  Missionary  in  India  . 
The  same 


PAGE 

.  153 

.  154 

.  154 

.  154 

,  155 

.  156 

.  157 

.  157 

157 

,  158 

158 

,  158 

159 

159 

159 

161 

161 

161 

167 

170 

172 


Politics. 

1.  Party  Spirit 173 

2.  Philosophy  of  Parties 174 

3.  Liberal  Principles    ........  175 

4.  Conservatism 175 

5.  The  same 175 

6.  The  same 177 

7.  The  same 173 

8.  The  same 173 


Theology. 

1.  Evidences  of  Religion 

2.  Evidences  for  a  Person  professing  Atheistical  Opinions 

3.  Evidences  for  a  Person  distressed  by  Sceptical  Doubts 

4.  Internal  Evidence 


179 
179 
184 

188 


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X 

( 

CONTENTS 

6.  Evidence  of  Martyrs 

6.  rtllitarianism 

7.  Rationalism 

8.  Fanaticism 

9.  The  same 

10.  English  Dinnes 

11.  Hooker  . 

12.  Bun  van 

• 

13.  Cnitarianism  . 

14.  Dissent  . 

15.  Scholastic  Theology 

16.  Commentary  on  the  Scri] 

>ture8 

17.  Truths  of  Revelation 

18.  The  Prophets 

19.  The  Apocalypse       . 

20.  Christian  Union 

21.  The  same 

22.  The  same 

23.  The  same 

24.  Christian  Doctrine  . 

25.  The  same 

26.  Subscription   . 

27.  Wanu  of  English  Theology 

28.  The  Church    .         .         ,        . 

29.  The  same 

30.  The  same 

31.  The  same 

32.  Church  of  England 

33.  The  same 

34.  The  same 

35.  The  same 

36.  The  same 

« 

ERS. 


pRAY] 

1.  Prayer  for  School    .... 

2.  Prayer  for  the  Country  and  Government 

3.  Diary    .... 


.  189 
.  189 
.  190 
.  191 
.  194 
.  194 
.  195 
.  195 
.  195 
.  197 
.  197 
.  198 
.  199 
.  199 
.  200 
.  201 
.  201 
.  202 
.  203 
.  204 
.  205 
.  206 
.  207 
.  20 
.  210 
.  210 
.  210 
.  211 
.  212 
.  214 
.  214 
.  216 


217 
217 

219 


EXTRACTS 


FROM 


TRAVELLING     JOURNALS. 


^-^wr^^. 


n 


■':*-*.■,>&,, 


INTRODUCTIOX. 


The  following  ''  Travelling  Journals"  are  reprinted 
from  the  "  Life  and  Correspondence  of  Dr.  Arnold." 
The  only  additions  consist  of  m  few  extracts  from 
his  ''  History  of  Rome,"  and  from  his  *'  Lectures  on 
Modem  History,"  which,  as  bearing  nn  geographi- 
cal subjects,  and,  in  some  instances,  actually  com- 
piled from  his  Journals,  will  not  be  thought  out  of 
place,  when  read  in  connection  with  the  countries 
or  cities  to  which  they  relate. 


*'  It  sufTiciently  appears  from  Dr.  Arnold's  letters,  how 
great  a  pleasure  he  took  in  travelling.     It  was,  in  fact, 
except  so  far  as  his  domestic  life  can  be  so  considered, 
his  chief  recreation,  combining,  as  it  did,  opportunities 
for  following  out  his  delight  in  History  with  his  love  of 
external   nature,   both   in   its  poetical    and    scientific 
aspect.    In  works  of  art  he  took  but  little  interest,  and 
any   extended    researches    in    physical    science    were 
precluded  by  want  of  time,  whilst  from  natunil  history 
he   had  an   instinctive,   but   characteristic  shrinking. 
*  The  whole  subject,*  he  said,  *  of  the  brute  creation 
is  to  me  one  of  such  painful  mystery,  that  I  dare  not 
approach  it.'     But  geography  and  geology  in  all  their 
forms,   plants    and   flowers,   not   from    any   botanical 
interest,  but  for  their  own   sakes, — beauty  of  archi- 
tecture and  of  scenery, — had  an  attraction  for  him, 
which  it  is  difficult  adequately  to  express ;  and,  when  to 
these  were  added  the  associations  of  great  historical 
events,  it  may  well  be  conceived  how  enthusiastic  was 
his  delight  in  his  short  summer  tours,  and  how  essen- 
tial a  part  of  his  life  they  became,  whether  in  present 
enjoyment  or  past  recollection. 

••  It  was  his  practice  when  travelling  to  keep  very 
minute  journals,  which,  as  his  tours  were,  partly  from 
necessity  and  partly  from  choice,  extremely  rapid,  he 
wrote  always  on  the  spot,  or  immediately  after,  and 
r.ftnn  whilst  actually  in  the  act  of  travelling.     And, 


^  EXTRACTS  FROM  TRAVELLING  JOURNALS. 

being  addressed  tbroughout  to  his  absent  wife  or 
children,  as  the  case  might  be,  they  partake  partly  of 
the  character  of  a  private  diary,  or  of  private  letters, 
but  rather  of  conversation,  such  as  he  would  have  held 
with  those  whom  he  was  addressing,  had  they  been 
actually  with  him. 

"  It  is  obvious  that  no  selections  from  journals  of  this 
description  can  give  any  adequate  notion  of  the  whole, 
of  which  they  are  fragments,— of  the  domestic  playful- 
ness,— the    humorous    details,   in    verse   or   j  of 
tmvclling  adventures, — the  very  jolts  of  the  carnage, 
and  diiiiculties  of  the  road, — the  rapid  sketches  of  the 
mere  geographical  outline  of  the  country, — the  succes- 
sion of  historical  associations. — the  love,  brought  out 
more   strongly   by  absence,  for   his   own   church  and 
country, —  the   strain   of    devout   thought   and   prayer 
pervading  the  whole, — which,  when  taken  altogether, 
give  a  more  living  image  of  the  man  himself,  than  any- 
thing else  which  he  has  left.     But  to  publish  the  whole 
of  any  one  of  the  many  volumes  through  which  these 
journals  extend,  was  for  many  reasons  impossible,  and 
it  has  therefore  been  thought  desirable  to  select,  in  the 
following  extracts,  such  passages  as  contained  matters 
of  the  most  general  interest,  with  so  much  of  the  ordi- 
nary context  as  might  serve  to  obviate  the  abruptness 
of  their  introduction,  and  in  the  hope  that  due  allow- 
ance will  be  made  for  the  dilTerence  in  their  character, 
as  they  are  read,  thus  torn  from  tlieir  natural  place, 
instead  of  appearing   in   the   general    course  of   his 
thoughts   and  observations,  as  they  were  suggested  by 
the  vai'ious  scenes  and  objects  through  which  he  was 
passing." — LiJ'e  and  Correspondence^  p.  040. 


I.  Tour  in  the  North  of  Italy,  1825. 

ChiavtMO,  July  3,  1835. 

1.  Lombardy. — I  can  now  understand  what  Signer 

A said  of  the  nakedness  of  the  country  between 

Hounslow  and  Laleham,  as  all  the  plains  here  are 
covered  with  fruit  trees,  and  the  villages,  however  filthy 
within,  are  genendly  picturesque,  either  from  situation, 
or  from  the  character  of  tlieir  buildings,  and  their  lively 
white.  The  architecture  of  the  churches,  however,  is 
quite  bad,  and  certainly  their  villages  bear  no  more 
comparison  with  those  of  Northamptonshire,  than  St. 
Giles's  does  with  Waterloo  Place.  There  are  more 
iniins  here  than  I  expected,  ruined  towers,  I  mean, 
of  modem  date,  which  are  frequent  in  the  towns  and 
villages.  The  countenances  of  the  people  are  fine, 
but  we  see  no  gentlemen  anywhere,  or  else  the  dis- 
tinction of  ranks  is  lost  altogether,  except  with  the 
court  and  the  high  nobility.  In  the  valley  of  Aosta, 
through  which  we  were  travelling  all  yesterday,  the 
whole  land,  I  hear,  is  possessed  by  the  peasants,  and 
there  are  no  groat  proprietors  at  all.  I  am  quite 
satisfied  that  there  is  a  good  in  this,  as  well  as  an 
evil,  and  that  our  state  of  society  is  not  so  im- 
mensely superior  as  we  flatter  ourselves.  I  know  that 
our  higher  classes  are  immensely  superior  to  any  one 
here;  but  I  doubt  whether  our  system  produces  a 
greater  amount  of  happiness,  or  saves  more  misery, 
than  theirs;  and  I  cannot  help  thinking,  that,  if  their 
dreadful  superstition  were  exchanged  for  the  Gospel, 

B  2 


^^TT^r^^ 


4  TRAVELLING    JOURNALS    IN    ITALY. 

their  division  of  society  would  more  tend  to  the  general 
good  than  ours.  Their  superstition  is  indeed  most 
shocking,  and  yet  with  some  points  in  which  we  should 
do  well  to  imitate  them.  I  like  the  simple  crosses  and 
oratories  by  the  roadside,  and  the  texts  of  Scripture 
wliich  one  often  sees  quoted  upon  them ;  hut  they  are 
profaned  by  such  a  predominance  of  idolatry  to  the 
Virgin,  and  of  falsehood  and  folly  about  the  Saints, 
that  no  man  can  tell  what  portion  of  the  water  of  life 
is  still  retained  for  those  who  drink  it  so  corrupted.  I 
want  more  than  ever  to  see  and  talk  with  some  of  their 
priests,  who  are  both  honest  and  sensible,  if  indeed, 
any  man  can  be  so,  and  yet  belong  to  a  system  so 
abominable. 

.Fuly  25,  1825. 

2.  CoMO. — On  the  cliff  above  the  Lake  of  Como. — 
We  are  on  a  mule  track  that  goes  from  Como  along  the 
eastern  shore  of  the  lake,  and  as  the  mountains  go  sheer 
down  into  the  water,  the  mule  track  is  obliged  to  be  cut 
out  of  their  sides,  like  a  terrace,  half  way  between  their 
summits  and  tlieir  feet.  They  are  covered  with  wood, 
all  chestnut,  from  top  to  bottom,  except  where  patches 
have  been  found  level  enough  for  houses  to  stand  on, 
and  vines  to  grow;  but  just  where  we  are  it  is  quite 
lonely :  I  look  up  to  the  blue  sky,  and  down  to  the  blue 
lake,  the  one  just  above  me,  and  the  other  just  below 
me,  and  see  both  through  the  thick  branches  of  the 
chestnuts.  Seventeen  or  eighteen  vessels,  with  their 
white  sails,  are  enlivening  the  lake,  and  about  half  a 
mile  on  my  right,  the  rock  is  too  steep  for  anything  to 
grow  on  it,  and  goes  down  ^a  bare  cliff.   A  little  beyond. 


_.-,*j^.-'>« 


■•' -;*tj-:r~  .*^*».i.. 


•  •■rZ 


TRAVELLING   JOURNALS    IN    ITALY.  5 

I  see  some  terraces  and  vines,  and  bright  white  houses, 
and  further  still,  there  is  a  little  low  point,  running 
out  into  the  lake,  which  just  affords  room  for  a  village, 
close  on  the  water's  edge,  and  a  white  church  tower 
rising  in  the  midst  of  it.  The  opposite  shore  is  just 
the  same,  villages  and  mountains,  and  trees  and  vines, 
all  one  perfect  loveliness.  I  have  found  plenty  of  the 
red  cyclamen,  whose  perfume  is  exquisite. 

On  the  edge  of  the  Lake  of  Como. — We  have  made 
our  way  down  to  the  water's  edge  to  bathe,  and  are  now 
sitting  on  a  stone  to  cool.  No  words  can  describe  the 
beauty  of  all  the  scenery;  we  stopped  at  a  walk  at  a 
spot,  where  a  stream  descended  in  a  deep  green  dell 
from  the  mountains,  with  a  succession  of  falls ;  the  dell 
60  deep,  that  the  sun  could  not  reach  the  water,  which 
lay  every  now  and  then  resting  in  deep  rocky  pools,  so 
beautifully  clear,  that  nothing  but  strong  prudence  pre- 
vented us  from  bathing  in  them ;  the  banks  of  the  dell, 
all  turf,  and  magnificent  chestnuts,  varied  with  rocks, 
and  the  broad  lake  bright  in  the  sunshine  stretched  out 
before  us. 


3.  Genoa. 

Prom  tlie  Lectures  on  Modern  History,  p.  171,  1st  edit. 

"  Some  of  you,  I  doubt  not,  remember  Genoa;  you 
have  seen  that  queenly  city  with  its  streets  of  palaces, 
rising  tier  above  tier  from  the  water,  girdling  with  the 
long  lines  of  its  bright  white  houses  the  vast  sweep  of 
its  harbour,  the  mouth  of  which  is  marked  by  a  huge 
natural  mole  of  rock,  crowned  by  its  magnificent  light- 
house tower.  You  remember  how  its  white  houses 
rose  out  of  a  mass  of  fig  and  olive  and  orange  trees,  the 


tia    T:»^^. 


^3!^!?^ 


>*■♦•;' 


!i!'?^ 


6 


TRAVELLING  JOURNALS   JN   ITALY. 


glory  of  its  old  patrician  luxury ;  you  may  have  observed 
the  mountains  behind  the  town  spotted  at  intervals  by 
small  circular  low  towers,  one  of  wliich  is  distinctly 
conspicuous  where  the  ridge  of  the  hills  rises  to  its 
summit,  and  hides  from  view  all  the  country  behind  it. 
Those  towers  are  the  forts  of  the  famous  lines,  which, 
curiously  resembling  in  shape  the  later  Syracusan  walls 
enclosing  Epipola?,  converge  inland  from  the  eastern 
and  western  extremities  of  the  city,  looking  down,  the 
western  line  on  the  valley  of  the  Polcevera,  the  eastern 
on  that  of  the  Bisagno,  till  they  meet,  as  I  have  said, 
on  the  summit  of  the  mountains,  where  the  hills  cease 
to  rise  from  the  sea,  and  become  more  or  less  of  a  table- 
laud  running  ofF  towards  the  interior,  at  the  distance, 
as  well  as  I  remember,  of  between  two  and  three  miles 
from  the  outside  of  the  city.  Thus  a  very  large  open 
space  is  enclosed  within  the  lines,  and  Genoa  is  capa- 
ble, therefore,  of  becoming  a  vast  entrenched  camp, 
holding  not  so  much  a  garrison  as  an  army.  In  the 
autumn  of  1709  the  Austrians  had  driven  the  French 
out  of  Lombardy  and  Piedmont ;  their  last  victory  of 
Fossano  or  Genola  had  won  the  fortress  of  Coni  or 
Cuneo  close  under  the  Alps,  and  at  the  very  extremity 
of  the  plain  of  the  Po  ;  the  French  clung  to  Italy  only 
by  their  hold  of  the  Riviera  of  Genoa,  the  narrow  strip 
of  coast  between  the  Apennines  and  the  sea,  which  ex- 
tends from  the  frontiers  of  France  almost  to  the  mouth 
of  the  Arno.  Hither  the  remains  of  the  French  force 
were  collected,  commanded  by  General  Massena,  and 
the  ix)int  of  chief  importance  to  his  defence  was  the  city 
of  Genoa.  Napoleon  had  just  returned  from  Egypt, 
and  was  become  First  Consul ;  but  he  could  not  be  ex- 


TRAVELLING   JOURNALS   IN   ITALY.  7 

pected  to  take  the  field  till  the  following  spring,  and 
till  then  Massena  was  hopeless  of  relief  from  without — 
everything  was  to  depend  on  his  own  pertinacity.   The 
strength  of  his  army  made  it  impossible  to  force  it  in 
such  a  position  as  Genoa;  but  its  very  numbers,  added 
to  the  population  of  a  groat  city,  held  out  to  the  enemy 
a  hope  of  reducing  it  by  famine;  and  as  Genoa  derives 
most  of  its  supplies  by  sea,  Lord  Keith,  the   British 
naval  commander-in-chief  in   the  Mediterranean,  lent 
the  assistance  of  his  naval  force  to  the  Austrians,  and, 
by  the  vigilance  of  his  cruizers,  the  whole  coasting  trade 
right  and  left  along  the  Riviera  was  effectually  cut  off. 
It  is  not  at  once  that  the  inhabitants  of  a  great  city, 
accustomed  to  the  daily  sight  of  well-stored  shops  and 
an   abundant   market,   begin    to    realize   the   idea  of 
scarcity;  or  that  the  wealthy  classes  of  society,  who 
have  never  knoN^*n  any  other  state  than  one  of  abundance 
and  luxury,  begin  seriously  to  conceive  of  famine.     But 
the  shops  were  emptied,  and  the  storehouses  began  to 
be  drawn  upon  ;  and  no  fresh  supply  or  hope  of  supply 
appeared.     Winter  passed  away,  and  spring  returned, 
80  early  and   so   beautiful   on   that  garden-like  coast, 
sheltered  as  it  is  from  the  north  winds  by  its  belt  of 
mountains,  and  open  to  the  full  rays  of  the  southern 
sun.     Spring  returned,  and  clothed  the  hill  sides  within 
the  lines  with  its  fresh  verdure.     But  that  verdure  was 
no  longer  the  mere  delight  of  the  careless  eye  of  luxury, 
refreshing  the  citizens  by  its  liveliness  and  softness 
when  they  rode  or  walked  up  thither  from  the  city  to 
enjoy   the   surpassing   beauty   of  the   prospect.      The 
green  hill  sides  were  now  visited  for  a  very  different 
object :  ladies  of  the  hi<7liest  rank  might  be  seen  cutting 


tSf  i:jr^ 


uM'iMmS!MSMMimiSi 


TRAVELLING   JOUKNALS    lH    ITALY. 


TRAVELLING   JOURNALS    IN    ITALY. 


9 


up  every  plant  which  it  was  possible  to  turn  to  food, 
and  bearing  home  the  common  weeds  of  our  roadsides 
as  a  most  precious  treasure.  The  French  general  pitied 
the  distress  of  the  people,  but  the  lives  and  strength  of 
his  garrison  seemed  to  him  more  important  than  the 
lives  of  the  Genoese,  and  such  provisions  as  remained 
were  reserved  in  the  first  place  for  the  French  army. 
Scarcity  became  utter  want,  and  want  became  famine. 
In  the  most  gorgeous  palaces  of  that  gorgeous  city,  no 
less  than  in  the  humblest  tenements  of  its  humblest 
poor,  death  was  busy;  not  the  momentary  death  of 
battle  or  massacre,  nor  the  speedy  death  of  pestilence, 
but  the  lingering  and  most  miserable  death  of  famine. 
Infants  died  before  their  parents'  eyes,  husbands  and 
wives  lay  down  to  expire  together.  A  man  whom  I  saw 
at  Genoa,  in  1825,  told  me  that  his  father  and  two  of 
his  brothers  liad  been  starved  to  death  in  this  fatal 
siege.  So  it  went  on,  till,  in  the  mouth  of  June,  when 
Napoleon  had  already  descended  from  the  Alps  into  the 
plain  of  Lombardy,  the  misery  became  unendurable, 
and  Masseua  surrendered.  But  before  he  did  so, 
twenty  thousand  innocent  persons,  old  and  young, 
women  and  children,  had  died  by  the  most  horrible  of 
deaths  which  humanity  can  endure.  Other  horrors 
which  occurred  besides  during  this  blockade  I  pass 
over;  the  agonizing  death  of  twenty  thousand  inno- 
cent and  helpless  persons  requires  nothing  to  he  added 

to  it 

**  Now  on  which  side  the  law  of  nations  should  throw 
the  guilt  of  most  atrocious  murder,  is  of  little  com- 
parative consequence,  or  whether  it  should  attach  it  to 
botli  sides  equally :  but  tliat  the  deliberate  starving  to 


^ 


I 


death  of  twenty  thousand  helpless  persons  should  be 
regarded  as  a  crime  in  one  or  both  of  the  parties  con- 
cerned in  it,  seems  to  me  self-evident.  The  simplest 
course  would  seem  to  be,  that  all  non-combatants  should 
be  allowed  to  go  out  of  a  blockaded  town,  and  that  the 
general  who  should  refuse  to  let  them  pass,  should  he 
regarded  in  the  same  light  as  one  who  were  to  murder 
his  prisoners,  or  who  were  to  be  in  the  habit  of  butcher- 
ing women  and  children.  For  it  is  not  true  that  war 
only  looks  to  the  speediest  and  most  etTectual  way  of 
attaining  its  object,  so  tliat  as  the  letting  the  inhabitants 
go  out  would  enable  the  garrison  to  maintain  the  town 
longer,  the  laws  of  war  authorize  the  keeping  them  in 
and  starving  them.  Poisoning  wells  might  be  a  still 
quicker  metliod  of  reducing  a  place,  but  do  the  laws  of 
war  therefore  sanction  it  ?  I  shall  not  be  supposed  for 
a  moment  to  be  placing  the  guilt  of  the  individuals 
concerned  in  the  two  cases  which  I  am  going  to  com- 
pare, on  an  equal  footing ;  it  would  be  most  unjust  to 
do  so,  for  in  the  one  case  they  acted,  as  they  supposed, 
according  to  a  law  which  made  what  they  did  their  duty. 
But  take  the  cases  themselves,  and  examine  them  in 
all  tlieir  circumstances;  the  degree  of  suffering  in- 
flicted, the  innocence  and  helplessness  of  the  sufferers, 
tlie  interests  at  stake,  and  the  possibility  of  otherwise 
securing  them  ;  and  if  any  man  can  defend  the  lawful- 
ness, in  the  abstract,  of  the  starvation  of  the  in- 
habitants of  Genoa,  I  will  engage  also  to  establish  the 
lawfulness  of  the  massacres  of  September." 


i^^li^E^'sJ^'CVi';!^ 


^-T*'"*-^     *  ^  *WV 


10 


TRAVELLI>'G   JOURNAL   IN   SCOTLAND. 


II.  Tour  in  Scotland. 

August  9,  IKSd. 

Scotch  and  English  Editcation. — The  cheapness 
of  education  is  certainly  a  great  thing  for  Scotland  ;  and 
the  new  Edinhurgh  Academy  promises  to  be  as  econo- 
mical as  the  High  School.  They  are  both  day  schools ; 
and  parents  mostly,  therefore,  reside  in  Edinburgh 
whilst  their  children  are  at  school.  About  fourteen, 
youths  enter  at  college,  and  at  twenty-one  they  enter 
on  their  professions,  at  least  those  of  Law  and  Physic ; 
but  at  college  they  board  at  home,  or  with  some  relation, 
or  in  some  cheap  boarding-house :  thus  the  expenses 
are  limited  to  the  mere  fees  for  attendance  on  lectures, 
which  of  course  are  trifling,  but  not  more  moderate  than 
in  Oxford ;  nay,  a  pupil  at  Oxford  gets  his  college  tuition 
comparatively  cheaper,  considering  how  much  more  an 
Oxford  tutor  can  do,  and  does  commonly,  than  a  Pro- 
fessor who  merely  reads  Lectures.  The  advantages  of 
the  Edinburgh  system  are,  however,  very  considerable ; 
in  many  respects  I  wish  we  could  adopt  them,  or  rather 
blend  them  with  those  points  in  which  we  are  certainly 
far  superior.  The  friendships  of  an  English  public 
school  and  university  can  rarely,  I  should  think,  be 
formed  on  the  Scotch  svstera :  but  on  the  other  hand 
the  domestic  affections  are  more  cherished.  Jeffrey  said 
that  all  nations  remarked  the  want  of  filial  affection 
in  sons  towards  their  fathers  in  England ;  the  looking 
upon  them  as  harsh  and  niggardly,  and  the  want  of 
entire  love  and  confidence  towards  them,  was  peculiarly 
English,— and  he  attributed  it  to  the  estrangement 
from  home,  and  the  habits  of  expense  which  are  at 
once  generated  by  our  system  of  education ;  the  one 


travelling   journals   in    FRANCE    AND   ITALY.       11 

loosening  the  intimacy  and  close  knowledge  of  one 
another,  which  should  subsist  between  father  and  son, 
the  other  supplying  a  perpetual  food  for  mutual  com- 
plaints and  unkindness.  Assuredly  this  is  true  in 
some  measure,  and  is  an  evil  arising  out  of  our  system 
of  education  which  had  never  struck  me  before.  It 
certainly  furnishes  an  additional  reason  for  doing 
everything  to  reduce  the  expenses  of  our  system ;  and 
there  is  this  also  to  be  said — if  a  boy  in  Scotland 
wastes  the  advantages  given  him,  at  least  the  loss  to 
his  father  is  not  grout  in  a  pecuniary  point  of  view; 
but  in  England  a  little  fortune  is  sunk  in  a  boy's  educa- 
tion, and  how  often  is  the  fruit  returned  absolutely 
nothing!  On  the  other  hand,  in  the  most  favourable 
cases,  there  can  be  no  comparison  between  what  Oxford 
and  Cambridge  can  do  for  a  man,  and  what  he  can  gain 
at  Edinburgh — nor  indeed  is  the  comparison  quite  fair, 
because  we  rarely  leave  the  University  till  a  year  or 
two  later  than  is  the  case  in  Scotland ;  and  in  the  most 
JavourahU  cases,  a  year  between  twenty-one  and  twenty- 
two  is  of  incalculable  benefit. 


IIL  Tour  to  Rome  through  France  and  Italy. 

Paii«,  March,  ifsn. 

I.  Prayers  for  Royal  Families. — In  church  to-day 
there  was  a  prayer  read  for  the  king  and  royal  family 
of  France,  but  they  were  prayed  for  simply  in  their 
personal  capacity,  and  not  as  the  rulers  of  a  great  na- 
tion, nor  was  there  any  prayer  for  the  French  people. 
St.  Paul's  exhortation  is,  to  pray,  not  for  kings  and 
their  famiUes,  but  for  kings  and  all  who  are  in  autho- 


-L*F'. 


12      TRAVELLING   JOUIINALS   IN    llw\NCi:.   AND    ITALY. 

rity,  "  that  we  maj  lead  a  peaceable  life  in  all  godliness 
aud  honest}-."  So  for  ever  is  this  most  pure  comraaud 
corrupted  by  sen  ilitj  and  courtliness. 

Joiffny,  April  fi,  1827. 

H.  French  SociETr. — Sens  has  a  fine  cathedral  with 
two  very  beautiful  painted  rose  windows  in  the  transepts, 
and  a  monument  of  the  Dauphin,  father  to  the  present 
king,  which  is  much  spoken  of.  Here  the  cheating  of 
the  blacksmiths  went  on  in  full  perfection,  and  is  really 
a  very  great  drawback  to  the  pleasure  of  travelling  in 
France.  The  moment  we  stop  anywhere,  out  comes  a 
fellow  with  his  leathern  apron,  and  goes  pokuig  and  pry- 
ing about  the  carriage  in  hopes  of  finding  some  job  to 
do ;  aud  they  all  do  their  work  so  ill,  that  they  gene- 
rally never  fail  to  find  something  left  for  them  by  their 
predecessors'  clumsiness.  Again,  I  have  been  struck 
with  the  total  absence  of  all  gentlemen,  and  of  all  per- 
sons of  the  education  and  feelings  of  gentlemen.  I  am 
afraid  that  the  bulk  of  the  people  are  sadly  ignorant 
and  unprincipled,  and  then  liberty  and  equality  are  but 
e>*ils.  A  little  less  aristocracy  in  our  country,  and 
a  little  more  here,  would  seem  a  desirable  improve- 
ment :  there  seem  great  elements  of  good  amongst  the 
people  here, — great  courtesy  and  kindness,  with  all 
their  cheating  and  unreasonableness.  May  He,  who 
only  can,  turn  the  hearts  of  this  people,  and  of  all 
other  people,  to  the  knowledge  and  love  of  Himself  in 
His  Son,  in  whom  there  is  neither  Englishman  nor 
Frenchman,  any  more  than  Jew  or  Greek,  but  Christ 
is  all  and  in  all !  And  may  He  keep  alive  in  me  the 
spirit  of  charity,  to  judge  favourably  and  feel  kindly 


TRAVELLING   JOURNALS    IN    FRANCE   AND    ITALY.       13 

towards  those  amongst  whom  i  uni  travelling;  inasmuch 
as  Christ  died  for  them  as  well  as  for  us,  and  they 
too  call  themselves  after  His  name. 

April,  1887. 

3.  Approach  to  Rome — When  we  turned  the  sum- 
mit and  opened  on  the  view  of  the  other  side,  it  might 
be  called  the  first  approach  to  Rome.  At  tho  distance 
of  more  than  forty  miles,  it  was  of  course  impossible  to 
see  the  town,  and  besides  tho  distance  was  hazy;  but 
we  were  looking  on  the  scene  of  the  Roman  History ;  we 
were  standing  on  the  outward  edge  of  the  frame  of  the 
great  picture,  an<l,  though  the  features  of  it  were  not  to 
be  traced  distinctly,  yet  we  had  the  consciousness  that 
they  were  before  us.  Here,  too,  we  first  saw  the  ^fedi- 
tormnean  ;  the  Alban  hills,  I  think,  in  the  remote  dis- 
tance, and  just  beneath  us,  on  the  left,  Soracte,  an 
outlier  of  the  Apennines,  which  has  got  to  the  right 
bank  of  the  Tiber,  and  stands  out  by  itself  most 
magnificently.  Close  under  us  in  front,  was  the  Cimi- 
nian  Lake,  the  crater  of  an  extinct  volcano,  surrounded, 
as  they  all  are,  with  their  basin  of  wooded  hills,  and 
lying  like  a  beautiful  mirror  stretched  out  before  us. 
Then  there  was  the  grand  beauty  of  Italian  scenery, 
the  depth  of  the  valleys,  and  the  endless  variety  of  the 
mountain  outline,  and  the  towns  perched  up  on  the 
mountain  summits,  and  this  now  seen  under  a  mottled 
sky  which  threw  an  ever-varying  shadow  and  light  over 
the  valley  beneath,  and  all  the  freshness  of  the  young 
spring.  We  descended  along  one  of  the  rims  of  this 
lake  to  Ronciglione,  and  from  thence,  still  descending 
on  the  whole,  to  Monterossi.     Here  the  famous  Cam- 


U*  *  j^^'J^XW^^.^^^.^^^jM 


14      TRAVELLING   JOURNAL:)   IN    FRANCK   AND   ITALY. 

pagftift  begins,  and  it  certainly  is  one  of  the  most 
striking  tracts  of  country  I  ever  beheld.  It  is  by  no 
means  a  perfect  flat,  except  between  Rome  and  the 
sea;  but  rather  like  the  Bagshot  Heath  country- 
ridges  of  hills  with  intermediate  valleys,  and  the  road 
often  running  between  high  steep  banks,  and  sometimes 
crossing  sluggish  streams  sunk  in  a  deep  bed.  All 
these  banks  were  overgrown  with  the  broom,  now  in 
full  flower;  and  the  same  plant  was  luxuriant  every- 
where. There  seemed  no  apparent  reason  why  the 
country  should  be  so  desolate ;  the  grass  was  gi'owiug 
richly  everywhere,  there  was  no  marsh  anywhere  visible, 
but  all  looked  as  fresh  and  healthy  as  any  of  our  chalk 
downs  in  England.  But  it  is  a  wide  wilderness;  no 
villages,  scarcely  any  houses,  and  here  and  there  a 
lonely  ruin  of  a  single  square  tower,  which  I  suppose 
used  to  sene  as  strongholds  for  men  and  cattle  in  the 
plundering  warfare  of  the  middle  ages.  It  was  after 
crowning  the  top  of  one  of  these  lines  of  hills,  a  little 
on  the  Roman  side  of  Baccano,  at  five  minutes  after 
six,  according  to  my  watch,  that  we  had  the  first  view 
of  Rome  itself.  I  expected  to  see  St.  Peter's  rising 
above  the  line  of  the  horizon  as  York  Minster  does, 
but  instead  of  that,  it  was  within  the  horizon,  and  so 
was  much  less  conspicuous,  and,  only  a  part  of  the  dome 
being  visible,  from  the  nature  of  the  ground,  it  looked 
mean  and  stumpy.  Nothing  else  marked  the  site  of 
the  city,  but  the  trees  of  the  gardens  about  it,  sunk  by 
the  distance  into  one  dark  mass,  and  the  number  of 
white  villjLs,  specking  the  opposite  bank  of  the  Tiber 
for  some  little  distance  above  the  town,  and  then  sud- 
denly ceasing.     But  the  whole  scene  that  burst  upon 


TRAVELLING   JOURNALS   IN   ROME. 


15 


our  >icvv,  wiiuii  utken  in  all  its  parts,  was  most  interest- 
ing. Full  in  front  rose  the  Alban  hills,  the  white 
villas  on  their  sides  distinctly  visible,  even  at  that  dis- 
tance, which  was  more  than  thirty  miles.  On  the  left 
were  tlie  Apennines,  and  Tivoli  was  distinctly  to  be 
seen  on  the  summit  of  its  mountain,  on  one  of  the 
lowest  and  nearest  points  of  the  cliain.  On  the  right 
and  all  before  us  lay  the  Gampagna,  whose  perfectly 
level  outline  was  succeeded  by  that  of  the  sea,  which 
was  scarcely  more  so.  It  began  now  to  get  dark,  and, 
as  there  is  hardly  any  twilight,  it  was  dark  soon  after 
we  left  La  Storta,  tlie  last  post  before  you  enter  Rome. 
The  air  blew  fresh  and  cool,  and  we  had  a  pleasant 
drive  over  the  remaining  part  of  the  Gampagna  till  we 
descended  into  the  valley  of  the  Tiber,  and  crossed  it 
by  the  Milvian  bridge.  About  two  miles  further  on  we 
reiiched  the  walls  of  Rome,  and  entered  by  the  Porta 
del  Popolo. 

April,  1827. 

4.  Rome. — After  dinner  Bunson  called  for  us  in  his 
carriage  and  took  us  to  his  house  fii-st  on  the  Gapitol, 
the  dill'erent  windows  of  wliich  command  the  different 
views  of  ancient  and  modem  Rome.  Never  shall  I 
forget  the  view  of  the  former;  we  looked  down  on 
the  Forum,  and  just  opposite  were  the  Palatine  and 
the  Avontiiie,  with  the  ruins  of  the  palace  of  the 
Gajsars  on  the  one,  and  houses  intermixed  with  gardens 
on  the  other.  The  mass  of  the  Colosseum  rose  beyond 
the  Forum,  and,  beyond  all,  the  wide  plain  of  the 
Gampagna  to  the  sea.  On  the  left  rose  the  Alban  hills 
bright   in   the   setting  sun,    which   played   full   upon 


>.    -~1-,  I-  v..     J 


^'m-i 


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.♦^l'' 


v« 


16 


TRAVELLrSO   JOURNALS   IN   ROME. 


TRAVELLING  JOURNALS   IN    ROME. 


17 


Frascati  and  Albano,  and  tlie  trees  which  edgo  the 
lake;  and,  further  away  in  the  distance,  it  lit  up  the 
old  town  of  Laviciim.  Then  we  descended  into  the 
Forum,  the  light  fast  fading  away  and  throwing  a 
kindred  soberness  oyer  the  scene  of  ruin.  The  soil 
has  risen  from  rubbish  at  least  fifteen  feet,  so  that  no 
wonder  that  the  hills  look  lower  than  they  used  to  do, 
havin2    been    never   verv    considerabL  the    first. 

There  it  was,  one  seen-  Icsolution,  from  the  massy 
foundation  stones  of  the  Capitoline  Temple,  which 
were  laid  by  Tarquinius  the  Proud,  to  a  single  pillar 
erected  in  honour  of  Phocas,  the  Eastern  Emperor,  in 
the  fifth  century.  What  the  fragments  of  pillars 
belonged  to,  perhaps  we  never  can  know;  but  that  I 
think  matters  little.  I  care  not  whether  it  was  a 
temple  of  Jupiter  Stator,  or  the  Basilica  Julia,  hut  one 
knows  that  one  is  on  the  ground  of  the  Forum,  under 
the   Capitol,    the   place  where   the    trib(  '^mbled, 

and  the  orators  spoke ;  the  scene,  in  short,  of  all  the 
internal  struggles  of  the  Roman  people.  We  passed 
on  to  the  Arch  of  Titus.  Amongst  the  reliefs,  there 
is  the  figure  of  a  man  bearing  the  golden  candlestick 
from  the  Temple  of  Jerusalem  as  one  of  the  spoils  of 
the  triumph.  Yet  He  who  abandoned  His  visible  and 
local  Temple  to  the  hands  of  the  heathen  for  the  sins 
of  His  nominal  worshippers,  has  taken  to  Him  His 
great  power  and  has  gotten  Him  glory  by  destroying 
the  idols  of  Rome  as  He  had  done  the  idols  of 
Babylon :  and  the  golden  candlestick  burns  and  shall 
bum  with  an  everlasting  light,  while  the  enemies  of 
His  holy  name,  Babylon,  Rome,  or  the  carcase  of  sin 
in  every  land,  which  the  eagles  of  His  wrath  will  surely 


find  out,  perish  for  ever  from  before  Him.  We  returned 
to  our  inn  to  dress,  and  then  went  again  to  Bunsen's 
evening  party.  We  came  home  about  eleven ;  I  wrote 
some  Journal,  and  went  to  bed  soon  after  twelve.  Such 
was  my  first  day  in  Rome ;  and  if  I  were  to  leave  it 
to-morrow,  I  should  think  that  one  day  was  well  worth 
the  journey.  But  you  cannot  tell  how  poor  all  the 
objects  of  the  North  of  Italy  seem  in  compai'ison  with 
what  I  find  here;  I  do  not  mean  as  to  scenery  or 
actual  beauty,  but  in  interest.  When  I  leave  Rome 
I  could  willingly  sleep  all  the  way  to  Laleham ;  that  so 
I  might  bring  home  my  recollection  of  this  place 
"uumked  with  baser  matter." 

May  2.  18S7. 

6.  .  •  ,  «  .  .  After  dinner  we  started  again  in  our 
carriage  to  the  Ponte  Molle,  about  two  miles  out  of 
Rome.  All  the  way  the  road  runs  under  a  steep  and 
cliffy  bank,  which  is  the  continuation  of  the  Collis 
Hortulorum  in  Rome  itself,  and  which  turns  off  at  the 
Ponte  Molle,  and  forms  the  boundary  of  the  Tiber  for 
some  way  to  the  northward,  the  cliffs,  however,  being 
succeeded  by  grass  slopes.  On  the  right  bank,  after 
crossing  the  Ponte  Molle,  the  road  which  we  followed 
ran  south-west  towards  St.  Peters  and  the  Vatican, 
between  the  Tiber  and  the  Monte  Mario.  The  Monte 
Mario  is  the  highest  point  of  the  same  line  of  hills,  of 
which  tlie  Vatican  and  Janiculum  form  parts;  it  is  a 
line  intersected  with  many  valleys  of  denudation, 
making  several  cunes,  and  as  it  were  little  bays  and 
creeks  in  it,  like  the  hills  on  the  right  bank  of  the 
Thames  behind  Chertsey,  which  coming  forward  at  St. 


wi 


■    ■   .-  («■*     -        •  ■     "a.       -1 


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*    .-**■?     *      V*^*:    '<T?'*    -i-i*?* 


18 


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TRAVELLING   JOURNALS   TV    ROME. 


19 


Anne's,  fall  back  in  a  very  irregular  line  beliind  Stroud 
and  Thorpe  Green,  and  then  come  forward  again  with 
a  higher  and  steeper  side  close  to  the  Thames  at 
Cooper's  Hill.  The  Monte  Mario  is  like  Cooper  s  Hill, 
the  highest,  boldest,  and  most  prominnnt  part  of  the 
line;  it  is  about  the  height  and  ^Lcpness,  too,  of 
Cooper's  Hill,  and  has  the  Tiber  just  at  the  foot  of  it 
like  the  Thames  at  Anchorwick.  To  keep  up  the 
resemblance,  there  is  a  sort  of  a  terrace  at  the  top  of 
the  Monte  Mario  planted  with  cypresses,  and  a  villa, 
though  dilapidated,  crowns  the  summit,  as  also  at  our 
old  friend  above  Egham.  Here  we  stood,  on  a  most 
delicious  evening,  the  ilex  and  the  gum-cistus  in  great 
profusion  about  us,  the  slope  below  full  of  olives  and 
vines,  the  cypresses  over  our  heads,  and  before  our  eyes 
all  that  one  has  ever  read  of  in  Roman  History— the 
course  of  the  Tiber  between  the  low  hills  that  bound  it. 
coming  down  from  Fidenae,  and  receiving  the  Allia  and 
the  Anio;  beyond,  the  Apennines,  the  distant  and 
higher  summits  still  quite  white  with  snow ;  in  front, 
the  Alban  Hills;  on  the  right,  the  Campagna  to  the 
sea,  and  just  beneath  us  the  whole  length  of  I^me, 
ancient  and  modem— St.  Peter's  and  the  Colosseum 
rising  as  the  representatives  of  each— the  Pantheon, 
the  Aventine,  the  Quirinal,  all  the  well-lvnown  objects 
distinctly  laid  before  us.  One  may  safely  say  that  the 
world  cannot  contain  many  views  of  such  mingled 
beauty  and  interest  as  this. 

fi From  the  Aventine  we  again  visited 

the  Colosseum,  which  I  admired  most  exceedingly,  but 
I  cannot  describe  its  effect.  Then  to  the  Church  of 
St.  John  at  the  Lateran  gate,  before  which  stands  the 


&-ii 


highest  of  the  Egyptian  obelisks,  brought  by  Constantino 
to  Rome.  Near  to  this  church  also  is  the  Scala  Santa, 
or  pretended  staircase  of  Pilate's  house  at  Jerusalem. 
It  is  cased  with  wood,  and  people  may  only  ascend 
to  it  on  their  knees,  as  I  saw  several  persons  doing. 
Then  we  went  to  St.  Maria  Maggiore,  to  Maria  degli 
Angeli  at  the  baths  of  Diocletian,  and  from  thence  I 

was  deposited  again  at .     1  care  very  little  for  the 

sight  of  their  churches,  and  notliiug  at  all  for  the  recol- 
lection of  them.  St.  John  at  the  Lateran  is,  I  think, 
the  finest ;  and  the  form  of  the  Greek  cross  at  St. 
Maria  degli  Angeli  is  much  better  for  these  buildings 
than  that  of  the  Latin.  But  precious  marbles,  and 
precious  stones,  and  gilding,  and  rich  colouring,  are  to 
me  like  the  kaleidoscope,  and  no  more;  and  these 
churches  are  almost  as  inferior  to  ours,  in  my  judgment, 
as  their  worship  is  to  ours.  I  saw  these  two  lines 
painted  on  the  wall  in  the  street  to-day,  near  an  image 
of  the  Virgin : 

**  Chl  v«ole  in  roort^  aver  Omu  per  Padre, 
Oiiuri  ill  rita  U  sua  Sanu  Madre." 

I  declare  I  do  not  know  what  name  of  abhorrence 
can  be  too  strong  for  a  religion  which,  holding  the  very 
bread  of  life  in  its  hands,  thus  feeds  the  people  with 
poison.  I  say  "  the  bread  of  life ; "  for  in  some  things 
the  indestructible  virtue  of  Christ's  Gospel  breaks 
through  all  their  pollutions  of  it;  and  I  have  seen  fre- 
quent placards  also — but  printed  papers,  not  printed  on 
the  walls,  and  therefore,  perhaps,  the  work  of  some 
good  individual.  **  Iddio  ci  vede.  Eternita."  This  is 
a  sort  of  seed  scattered  by  the  wayside,  which  certainly 
would  not  have  been  found  in  heathen  Rome. 

c  2 


^^itiJ 


s*.   '> 


■'  ''.    /r*- 


20 


TRAVELLING   JOURNALS   IN    ROME. 


TRAVELLING   JOURNALS   IN   ROME. 


21 


*^ I  fear   that   our  countrymen,  and 

especially  our  unmarried  countrymen,  who  live  long 
ahroad,  are  not  in  the  best  possible  moral  state,  how- 
ever much  they  may  do  in  science  and  literature; 
which  comes  back  to  my  old  opinion  that  such  pursuits 
will  not  do  for  a  man's  main  business,  and  that  they 
must  be  used  in  subordination  to  a  clearly-perceived 
Christian  end,  and  looked  upon  as  of  most  subordinate 
value,  or  else  they  become  as  fatal  as  absolute  idleness. 
In  fact,  the  house  is  spiritually  empty,  so  long  as  the 
pearl  of  great  price  is  not  there,  although  it  may  be 
hung  with  all   the  decorations  of  earthly  knowledge. 

But,  in  saying  this  I  do  not  allude  to ,  but  to  a 

class :  I  heard  him  say  nothing  amiss,  except  negatively; 
and  I  have  great  reason  to  thank  bira  for  his  civility. 
But  it  is  so  delightful  to  meet  with  a  man  like  Bunsen. 
with  whom  I  know  that  all  is  right,  that  perhaps  the 
contrast  of  those  with  whom  I  cannot  feel  the  same 
certainty,  is  the  more  striking. 

8.  We  found  the  Savignys  at  home,  and  I  had  some 
considerable  talk  with  Savigny  about  the  Roman  Law» 
which  was  satisfactory  to  me  on  this  account, — that  I 
found  that  I  knew  enough  of  the  subject  to  understand 
what  its  difficulties  were,  and  that,  in  conversing  witli 
the  most  profound  master  of  tbe  Roman  Law  in 
Europe,  I  found  that  I  had  been  examining  the  right 
sources  of  information.  He  thought  that  the  Tribes 
voted  upon  laws  down  to  a  late  period  of  the  Emperor's 
government. 

Mar,  1S37. 

9.  Lastly,  we  ascended  to  the  top  of  the  Colosseum, 
Bunsen  leaving  us  at  the  door,  to  go  home ;  and  I 


seated  myself  with ,  just  above  the  main  entrance, 

towards  the  Forum,  and  there  took  my  farewell  look 
over 'Rome.  It  was  a  delicious  evening,  and  everything 
was  looking  to  advantage : — the  huge  Colosseum  just 
under  me, — ^the  tufts  of  ilex  and  alitemus,  and  other 
shrubs  that  fringe  the  ruins  everywhere  in  the  lower 
parts, — while  the  outside  wall,  with  its  top  of  gigantic 
stones,  lifts  itself  high  above,  and  seems  like  a  moun- 
tain barrier  of  bare  rock,  inclosing  a  green  and  varied 
valley. — I  sat  and  gazed  upon  the  scene  with  an 
intense  and  mingled  feeling.  The  world  could  show 
nothing  grander;  it  was  one  which  for  years  I  had 
longed  to  see,  and  I  was  now  looking  at  it  for  the  last 
time.  I  do  not  think  you  will  be  jealous,  dearest,  if  1 
confess  that  I  could  not  take  leave  of  it  without  some- 
thing of  regret.  Even  with  you  and  our  darlings,  I 
would  not  live  out  of  our  dear  country,  to  which  I  feel 
bound  alike  by  every  tie  of  duty  and  affection ;  and  to 
be  here  a  vagrant,  without  you,  is  certainly  veiy  far 
from  happiness.  Not  for  an  instant  would  I  prolong 
my  absence  from  Laleham,  yet  still  I  feel,  at  leaving 
Rome,  very  differently  from  what  I  ever  felt  at  leaving 
any  other  place  not  more  endeared  than  this  is  by  per- 
sonal ties ;  and  when  I  last  see  the  dome  of  St.  Peter's, 
I  shall  seem  to  be  parting  from  more  than  a  mere  town 
full  of  curiosities,  where  the  eye  has  been  amused,  and 
the  intellect  gratified.  I  never  thought  to  have  felt 
Uius  tenderly  towards  Rome;  but  the  inexpressible 
solemnity  and  beauty  of  her  ruined  condition  has  quite 
bewitched  me ;  and  to  the  latest  hour  of  my  life  I  shall 
remember  the  Forum,  the  surrounding  hills,  and  the 
magnificent  Colosseum. 


^5°*^ 


A-:?^'." 


firsiii^AsIss 


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mssM^Mi^ 


?**_  ■?^''f%:^*a(f5j^"3^--'S  ^^c^^^^^K^^^^^w^s^^p^^^^p^^^^li^^ 


QQ 


TRAVELUNO  JOUBNALS   IN   ROME. 


TBAVELLING   JOURNALS   IN    ROME. 


23 


10.  Rome  and  the  Campagna. 

From  the  History  of  Rome*  toI.  i.  p.  30. 

"  And  now  what  was  Rome,  and  what  was  the  country 
around  it,  which  have  both  acquired  an  interest  such  as 
can  cease  only  when  earth  itself  shall  perish?  The 
hills  of  Rome  are  such  as  we  rarely  see  in  England, 
low  in  height,  but  with  steep  and  rocky  sides.  In  early 
times  the  natural  wood  still  remained  in  patches  amidst 
the  buildings,  as  at  this  day  it  grows  here  and  there  on 
the  green  sides  of  the  Monte  Testacco.  Across  the 
Tiber  the  ground  rises  to  a  greater  height  than  that  of 
the  Roman  hills,  but  its  summit  is  a  level  unbroken 
line,  while  the  heights,  which  opposite  to  Rome  itself 
rise  immediately  from  the  river,  under  the  names  of 
Janiculus  and  Vaticanus,  then  sweep  away  to  some 
distance  from  it,  and  return  in  their  highest  and 
boldest  form  at  the  Monte  Mario,  just  above  the 
Milvian  bridge  and  the  Flaminian  road.  Thus  to  the 
west  the  view  is  immediately  bounded ;  but  to  the 
north  and  north-east  the  eye  ranges  over  the  low 
ground  of  the  Campagna  to  the  nearest  line  of  the 
Apennines,  which  closes  up,  as  with  a  gigantic  wall,  all 
the  Sabine,  Latin,  and  Volscian  lowlands,  while  over  it 
are  still  distinctly  to  be  seen  the  high  summits  of  the 
central  Apennines,  covered  with  snow,  even  at  this  day, 
for  more  than  six  months  in  the  year.  South  and 
south-west  lies  the  wide  plain  of  the  Campagna;  its 
level  line  succeeded  by  the  equally-level  line  of  the  sea, 
which  can  only  be  distinguished  from  it  by  the  brighter 
light  reflected  from  its  waters.  Eastward,  after  ten 
miles  of  plain,  the  view  is  bounded  by  the  Alban  hills, 


a  cluster  of  high  bold  points  rising  out  of  the  Campagna, 
like  Arran  from  the  sea,  on  the  highest  of  which,  at 
nearly  the  same  height  with  the  summit  of  Helvellyu, 
Btooil  the  Temple  of  Jupiter  Latiaris,  the  scene  of  the 
common  worship  of  all  the  people  of  the  Latin  name. 
Immediately  under  this  highest  point  lies  the  crater- 
like basin  of  the  Alban  lake ;  and  on  its  nearer  rim 
might  be  seen  the  trees  of  the  grove  of  Ferentia, 
where  the  Latins  held  the  great  civil  assemblies  of 
their  nation.  Further  to  the  north,  on  the  edge  of  the 
Alban  hills  looking  towards  Rome,  was  the  town  and 
citadel  of  Tusculum ;  and  beyond  this,  a  lower  summit 
crowned  with  the  walls  and  towers  of  Labicum  seems 
to  connect  the  Alban  hills  with  the  line  of  the  Apen- 
nines just  at  the  spot  where  the  citadel  of  Prteneste, 
high  up  on  the  mountain  side,  marks  the  opening  into 
the  country  of  the  Hemicans,  and  into  the  valleys  of 
the  streams  that  feed  the  Liris.  Returning  nearer  to 
Rome,  tlie  lowland  country  of  the  Campagna  is  broken 
by  long  green  swelling  ridges,  the  ground  rising  and 
falling,  as  in  the  heath  country  of  Surrey  and  Berk- 
shire. The  streams  are  dull  and  sluggish,  but  the  hill 
sides  alK)ve  them  constantly  break  away  into  little  rocky 
clifls,  where  on  every  ledge  the  wild  fig  now  strikes  out 
its  branches,  and  tufts  of  broom  are  clustering,  but 
which  in  old  times  formed  the  natural  strength  of  the 
citadels  of  the  numerous  cities  of  Latium.  Except  in 
these  narrow  dells,  the  present  aspect  of  the  country  is 
all  bare  aud  desolate,  with  no  trees  nor  any  human  habi- 
tation. But  anciently,  in  the  time  of  the  early  kings 
of  Rome,  it  was  full  of  independent  cities,  and,  in  its 
population  aud  the  careful  cultivation  of  its  little  gar- 


M 


iPii- 


^^iS»i,-->/-''.-r-'<  v\M^taj 


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W^y^-  -k  r^'€^W^ 


24 


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TBAVELUNG   JOURNALS   IN   ROME. 


25 


den-like  farms,  must  have  resembled  the  most  flourish- 
ing parts  of  Lombardy  or  the  Netherlands." 

In  a  ferry-boat  on  the  Po.    May  16,  ittn. 

11.  Lombardy. — Here  we  are  iu  our  carriage  in  a 
great  boat,  with  another  carriage  alongside  of  us,  in 
which  is  a  priest  of  some  dignity,  as  I  imagine,  with 
two  servants.     The  Po  has  been  uncivil  to  us,  and  first 
of  all  broke  down  the  bridge  of  Placentia,  and  obliged 
us  to  go  round  by  Pavia,  and  then  has  made  such  a  flood 
that  we  cannot  land  at  the  usual  place,  but  are  going  to 
have  a  voyage  of  nearly  a  mile  up  the  river.    The  scene 
is  very  Trentish  :  the  wide  and  very  dirty  river ;  the  ex- 
ceedingly rich  and  fat  plains,  the  church  towers  on  the 
banks,  and  tlie  exceeding  clumsiness  of  the  boats — so 
unlike  those  of  the  Thames.     Meanwhile  I  gain  some 
time  for  Journal,  which  I  am  in  great  need  of.     The 
whole  of  yesterday  morning,  from  nine  to  Imlf-past  two. 
I  spent  in  the  Library  at  Parma,  collating  Thucydides. 
At  a  little  before  four  we  left  Parma,  and  a  little  before 
nine  we  reached  Placentia.    I  must  not  omit  to  mention 
the  remarkable  beauty  of  the  fire-flies  last  night,  just 
as  we  entered  Placentia.     The  wide  meadows  before  we 
reached  the  town  were  sparkling  with  the  shifting  light 
of  hundreds  of  these  little  creatures,  whose  irregular 
movements  and   perpetual   change   resembled  a  fairy 
dance,  in  which  each  elf  carried  a  lamp  in  his  hand, 
alternately   lighting    and   extinguishing   it    by   magic 
power.    I  never  saw  them  before  in  such  abundance. 
The  change  of  climate  from  Rome  is  very  perceptible. 
We  have  no  olives  here,  and  few  figs,  and  the  flowers 
in  the  fields  and  hedges  are  mostly  the  same  as  our 


own ;  though  I  still  see  our  garden  gladiolus  in  the 
corn-fields,  and  the  dog-roses  are  in  full  bloom.  From 
Placentia  here  we  have  been  again  on  old  ground — still 
the  great  plain  of  Lombardy,  which  we  have  now 
followed  for  120  miles  without  one  hill — and  we  are 
going  to  follow  it  for  50  more  on  the  other  bank  of  the 
Po  from  here  to  Como.  Its  richness  is  apparently 
unequal,  and  about  Placentia  it  seems  much  inferior  tx) 
wliat  it  is  about  Bologna,  Modena,  and  Reggio.  We 
have  just  crossed  about  three  miles  of  the  Sardinian 
dominions  in  our  way  to  the  Po :  and  for  this  little  bit 
wo  have  again  had  trouble  with  the  Custom  House 
about  my  books :  for  it  seems  the  Sardinian  Govern- 
ment is  afraid  of  light  as  well  as  its  neighbours.  There 
has  evidently  been  a  great  deal  of  rain  here  lately,  and 
all  the  streams  from  the  Apennines  are  full.  We 
should  not  have  been  able  to  cross  the  Trebbia  had 
tliere  not  been  a  bridge  built  about  two  years  since,  and 
the  same  may  be  said  of  the  Taro.  These  increasing 
facilities  of  communication  are  certainly  very  creditable 
to  the  governments,  and  of  good  omen  for  the  people  ; 
as  they  may  tend  to  give  them  some  activity  of  mind, 
and  some  knowledge  of  what  is  going  on  at  some  little 
distance  from  their  own  homes ;  and  thus  they  may  in 
time  be  fit  for  liberty.  But  I  cannot  think  that  any 
good  and  wise  man  can  regret  the  failure  of  the  Pied- 
monteso  and  Neapolitan  revolutions  of  1821.  It  would 
be  a  hopeless  state  of  things  to  see  the  half-informed 
and  thoroughly  unprincipled  laNNyers,  merchants,  and 
literati  of  Italy,  put  into  the  possession  of  power. 
With  Prussia  the  case  is  totally  difierent ;  but  the  king 
there    has  done  so  much  good,  that  we  may  hope 


''^m^ 


•  v^^Se^Sr^^.  ,^  ^sY^Sil^ff ^^''•.^-S 


S6 


TRAVELLING   JOURNALS   IN    ROlktE. 


TRAVELLING    JOURNALS   TN    GERMANY. 


27 


favourably  of  what  he  will  do  to  make  his  people 
iDdependent  of  the  personal  character  of  their  sove- 
reign. Successors  like  himself  lie  cannot  reckon  on; 
and  the  true  magnanimity  of  a  sovereign  is,  to  resign 
the  exclusive  power  of  doing  good  to  his  people,  and  to 
be  content  that  they  should  do  it  to  themselves.  By 
the  way,  I  suppose  it  was  this  sentiment  in  my  Life  of 

Trajan  that found  so  shocking :  but  be  it  so ;  at 

that  rate  1  cannot  write  what  will  not  be  shocking, — 
and  most  ashamed  I  should  be  so  to  write  as  that  such 
men  should  approve  of  it.  The  Po  has  been  now  civil 
enough  to  redeem  his  incivility,  so  I  shall  part  with 
him  on  good  terms. 

On  the  mountain  side,  above  the  Lake  (second  vUlt). 

May  19, 1827. 

12.  CoMo. — I  am  now  seated,  dearest  M ,  very 

nearly  in  the  same  spot  from  which  I  took  my  sketch 

with in  1825 ;  and  I  am  very  glad  to  be  here  again, 

for  certainly  the  steam  boat  had  given  no  adequate  im- 
pression of  the  beauties  of  this  lake,  and  I  did  not  wish 
to  go  away  from  it — admiring  it  less  than  I  did  the  last 
time.  But  now,  seated  under  its  chestnut  woods,  and 
looking  down  upon  its  clear  water,  it  appears  as  beauti- 
ful as  ever.  Again  I  see  the  white  sails  specking  it, 
and  the  cliff  running  down  sheer  into  it,  and  the 
village  of  Tomo  running  out  into  it  on  its  little 
peninsula,  and  Blevio  nearer  to  me,  and  the  houses 
sometimes  lining  the  water's  edge,  and  sometimes 
clustering  up  amidst  the  chestnuts.  How  strange  to 
be  sitting  twice  within  two  years  in  the  same  place,  on 
the  shores  of  an  Italian  lake,  and  to  be  twice  describing 


the  self-same  scenery.  But  now  I  feel  to  be  taking 
a  final  leave  of  it,  and  to  be  viewing  the  inexpressible 
beauty  of  these  lakes  for  the  last  time.  And  I  am 
fully  satisfied  ; — for  their  images  will  remain  for  ever  in 
my  memory,  and  one  has  something  else  to  do  in  life 
than  to  be  for  ever  running  about  after  objects  to 
delight  the  eye  or  the  intellect.  '•  This,  I  say,  brethren ; 
the  time  is  short;"  and  how  much  is  to  be  done  in 
that  time!  May  God,  who  has  given  me  so  much 
enjoyment,  give  me  grace  to  be  duly  active  and  zealous 
in  His  service  ;  that  I  may  make  this  relaxation  really 
useful,  and  hallow  it  as  His  gift,  through  Christ  Jesus. 
May  I  not  be  idle  or  selfish,  or  vainly  romantic ;  but 
sober,  watchful,  diligent,  and  full  of  love  to  my 
brethren. 

IV.  Tour  in  Germany. 

June  'J,  isjc. 

1.  Cologne. — Early  this  morning  we  left  Aix,  and 
came  on  to  Cologne.  The  country,  which  about  Aix  is 
very  pretty,  soon  degenerates  into  great  masses  of  table 
land,  divided  at  long  intervals  by  the  valley  of  the 
Ptoer,  in  which  is  Juliers,  or  Julich,  where  we  break- 
fasted, and  that  of  the  Ernst,  in  which  is  Bergheim. 
All  this  was  dull  enough,  but  the  weather  meantime 
was  steadying  and  settling  itself,  and  the  distances 
were  getting  very  clear,  and  at  last  our  table-land 
ended  and  sank  down  into  a  plain,  and  from  the  edge 
of  it,  as  we  began  to  descend,  we  burst  upon  the  view 
of  the  valley  of  the  Rhine,  the  city  of  Cologne,  with 
all  its  towers,  the  Rhine  itself  distinctly  seen  at  the 
distance  of  seven  miles, — the  Seven  Mountains  above 


28 


TRAYELLING   JOURNALS   IN    GERMANY. 


TRAVELUNO   JOURNALS   IN    GERMANY. 


29 


Be^ 


Bonn  on  our  right,  and  a  boundless  sweep  of  the 
country  beyond  the  Rhine  in  front  of  us.  To  be  sure, 
it  was  a  striking  contrast  to  the  first  view  of  the 
valley  of  the  Tiber  from  the  mountain  of  Viterbo; 
but  the  Rhine  in  mighty  recollections  will  vie  with 
anything,  and  this  spot  was  particularly  striking: 
Cologne  was  Agrippa's  colony  inhabited  by  Germans, 
brought  from  beyond  the  river,  to  live  as  the  subjects 
of  Rome;  the  river  itself  was  the  frontier  of  the 
Empire — the  limit,  as  it  were,  of  two  worlds,  that  of 
Roman  laws  and  customs,  and  that  of  German.  Far 
before  us  lay  the  land  of  our  Saxon  and  Teutonic 
forefathers — the  land  uncorrupted  by  Roman  or  any 
other  mixture  ;  the  birth-place  of  the  most  moral  races 
of  men  that  the  world  has  yet  seen — of  the  soundest 
laws  —  the  least  violent  passions,  and  the  fairest 
domestic  and  civil  virtues.  I  thought  of  that  memo- 
rable defeat  of  Varus  and  his  three  legions,  which  for 
ever  confined  the  Romans  to  the  western  side  of  the 
Rhine,  and  preserved  the  Teutonic  nation — the  regene- 
rating element  in  modem  Europe — safe  and  free. 

2.  Check  to  the  Roman  Conquests  in  Germany. 

History  of  tlie  LaUT  Roman  roininonw»>aUh,  II.,  p.  310. 

"  \Mjile  the  Romans  were  extending  their  con- 
quests from  the  Alps  to  the  Danube,  they  attempted  to 
penetrate  in  another  quarter  into  the  very  heart  of 
Germany,  and  to  advance  their  frontier  from  the  Rhine 
to  the  Elbe.  Claudius  Drusus  was  first  employed 
in  this  service,  and  after\\ards  his  elder  brother, 
Tiberius  Nero.  In  the  course  of  these  wars  more 
than  fifty  Roman  fortresses  were  built  on  the  banks  of 


the  Rhine,  many  of  which  were  the  firet  germ  of  towns 
still  existing ;  and  amongst  these  are  to  be  numbered 
Mentz,  Bingen,  Coblentz,  Andemach,  and  Bonn.  A 
fleet  also  co-operated  with  the  army,  sailing  round 
from  the  ports  of  Gaul  to  the  mouth  of  the  Elbe ;  and 
the  country  was  so  far  overrun,  that  Drusus  had  esta- 
blished militiiry  posts  along  the  course  of  that  river,  as 
well  as  of  the  Weser.  Had  these  successes  been 
unchecked,  the  Romans  would  have  permanently 
occupied  the  greatest  part  of  Germany;  the  Latin 
language  and  the  manners  of  Italy  might  have  pre- 
vailed as  entirely  over  the  language  and  manners  of  the 
Germans  as  thev  did  over  those  of  the  Gauls  and 
Spaniards ;  whilst  the  Teutonic  tribes,  pressed  by  the 
Romans  on  the  Elbe,  and  by  the  Sclavonic  nations  on 
the  Oder  and  the  Vistula,  would  have  been  either 
gradually  overpowered  and  lost,  or  at  any  rate  would 
never  have  been  able  to  spread  that  regenerating 
influence  over  the  best  portion  of  Europe,  to  which 
the  excellence  of  our  modern  institutions  may  in  great 
measure  be  referred.  If  this  be  so,  the  victory  of 
Arminius  deserves  to  be  reckoned  among  those  signal 
deliverances  which  have  affected  for  centuries  the 
happiness  of  mankind;  and  we  may  regard  the  de- 
struction of  Quintilius  Varus,  and  his  three  legions, 
on  the  banks  of  the  Lippe,  as  second  only  in  the 
benefits  derived  from  it  to  the  victory  of  Charles 
Martel  at  Tours,  over  the  invading  host  of  the  Moham- 
medans." 

On  the  Elbe,  a  little  before  sunset.    July,  1828. 

3.  The  Elbe. — We  are  now  near  Pima,  that  is,  near 
the  end  of  the  Saxon  Switzerland ;  the  cliffs  which  here 


;•?;:»  *-' V  ^■^'^trtnf^faairtS'^ltilrffii 


*;lfe2,;i&-!.. 


^^v^*;#y-*-"''^*' 


30 


TRAVELLING  JODBNALS  Di   GEBMANT. 


TRAVELLING   JOURNALS   TS    SWITZERLAND. 


31 


line  the  river  on  both  sides — a  wall  of  cliff  rising  out  of 
wood,  and  crowned  with  wood — will  in  a  very  short  time 
sink  down  into  plains,  or  at  the  best  into  gentle  slopes, 
and  the  Elbe  will  wind  through  one  unvaried  flat  from 
this  point  till  it  reaches  the  sea.  There  is  to  me  some- 
thing almost  affecting  in  the  striking  analogy  of  rivers 
to  the  course  of  human  life,  and  ray  fondness  for  them 
makes  me  notice  it  more  in  them  than  in  any  other 
objects  in  which  it  may  exist  equally.  The  Elbe  rises  in 
plains ;  it  flows  through  plains  for  some  way ;  then  for 
many  miles  it  runs  through  the  beautiful  scenery  which 
we  have  been  visiting,  and  then  it  is  plain  again  for  all 
the  rest  of  its  course.  Even  yet,  dearest,  and  we  have 
reached  our  middle  course  in  the  ordinary  run  of  life ; 
how  much  more  favoured  have  we  been  than  this  river ; 
for  hitherto  we  have  gone  on  through  nothing  but  a 
fair  country,  yet  so  far  like  the  Elbe,  that  the  middle 
has  been  the  loveliest.  And  what  if  our  course  is  hence- 
forth to  run  through  plains  as  dreary  as  those  of  the 
Elbe,  for  we  are  now  widely  separated,  and  I  may  never 
be  allowed  to  return  to  you ;  and  I  know  not  what  may 
happen,  or  may  even  now  have  happened  to  you.  Then 
the  river  may  be  our  comfort,  for  we  are  passing  on  as 
it  passes,  and  we  are  going  to  the  bosom  of  that  Being 
who  sent  us  forth,  even  as  the  rivers  return  to  the  sea, 
the  general  fountain  of  all  watere.  Thus  much  is 
natural  religion, — not  surely  to  be  despised  or  neglected, 
though  we  have  more  given  us  than  anything  which  the 
analogy  of  nature  can  parallel.  For  He  who  trod  the 
sea,  and  whose  path  is  in  the  deep  waters,  has  visited 
us  with  so  many  manifestations  of  His  grace,  and  is 
our  God  by  such  other  high  titles,  greater  than  that  of 


creation,  that  to  him  who  puts  out  the  arm  of  faith,  and 
brings  the  mercies  that  are  round  him  home  to  his  own 
particular  use,  how  full  of  overflowing  comfort  must  the 
world  be,  even  when  its  plains  are  the  dreariest  and 
loneliest!  Well  may  every  one  of  Christ's  disciples 
repeat  to  Him  the  prayer  made  by  His  first  twelve, 
"Lord  increase  our  faith  ! "  and  well  may  He  wonder — 
as  the  Scripture  applies  such  a  term  to  God — that  our 
faith  is  80  little.  Be  it  strengthened  in  us,  dearest 
wife,  and  in  our  children,  that  we  mav  be  all  one,  now 
and  evermore,  in  Christ  Jesus. 


V.  Tour  in  Switzerland  and  North  of  Italy. 

July  16,  1829. 

1.  The  Jura. — How  completely  is  the  Jura  like  Ci- 
tha^ron,  with  its  >a7r«»  and  Xti^wn?,  and  all  that  scenery 
which  Euripides  has  given  to  the  life  in  the  Bacchse. 
Immediately  beyond  the  post-house,  at  S.  Cergues,  the 
view  opens, — one  that  I  never  saw  surpassed,  nor  can  I 
ever;  for  if  America  should  aflbrd  scenes  of  greater 
natural  beauty,  yet  the  associations  cannot  be  the  same. 
No  time,  to  civilized  man,  can  make  the  Andes  like  the 
Alps ;  another  Deluge  alone  could  place  them  on  a  level. 
There  was  the  lake  of  Geneva,  with  its  inimitable  and 
indescribable  blue, — the  whole  range  of  the  mountains 
which  bound  its  southern  shore, — the  towns  that  edge 
its  banks, — the  rich  plain  between  us  and  its  waters, — 
and  immediately  around  us  the  pines  and  oaks  of  the 
Jura,  and  its  deep  glens,  and  its  thousand  flowers,— out 
of  which  we  looked  on  this  Paradise. 


ui^'iL; 


.^-.s^^""' 


^[^^^^^ 


''W^^^mmmm  PPfX^ppsf w^^  • 


fl^^^^^F: 


^^^r^^^^i^^sm 


J  *■-*''.. 


v.fs^srfiHi^-'' 


p^SrSfii^^V*^^^ 


32 


TRAVELLING    JOURNALS   IN   SWITZERLAND. 


TRAVELLING   JOURNALS   IN    ITALY. 


33 


G«noa,  July  20»  I8M; 

2.  The  Mediterranean. — Once  again  I  am  on  the 
shore  of  the  Mediterranean.  I  saw  it  only  from  a  dis- 
tance when  I  was  last  in  Itiilv,  but  now  I  am  once  more 
on  its  very  edge,  and  have  been  on  it  and  in  it.  True  it 
is,  that  the  Mediterranean  is  no  more  than  a  vast  mass 
of  salt  water,  if  people  choose  to  think  it  so :  but  it  is 
also  the  most  magnificent  thing  in  the  world,  if  you 
choose  to  think  it  so  ;  and  it  is  as  tnily  the  latter  as  it 
is  the  former.  And  as  the  pococurante  temper  is  not 
the  happiest,  and  that  which  can  admire  heartily  is 
much  more  akin  to  tlmt  which  can  love  heartilv,  o  i\ 
uyuTruvy  ^$u  y]$vt  o^xojo,', — SO,  my  children,  I  wish  that  if 
ever  you  come  to  Genoa,  you  may  think  the  Mediter- 
ranean to  be  more  than  any  common  sea,  and  may  be  un- 
able to  look  upon  it  without  a  deep  stirring  of  delight. 

On  the  Lake  of  Como,  Aufrust  3,  \K*9. 

3.  The  Lake  of  Como. — I  fancy  how  delightful  it 
would  be  to  bring  one's  family  and  live  here ;  but  then, 
happily,  I  think  and  feel  how  little  such  voluptuous  en- 
joyment would  repay  for  abandoning  the  line  of  useful- 
ness and  activity  which  I  have  in  England,  and  how  the 
feeling  myself  helpless  and  useless,  living  merely  to  look 
about  me,  and  training  up  my  children  in  the  same  way, 
would  soon  make  all  this  beauty  pall,  and  appear  even 
wearisome.  But  to  see  it  as  we  are  now  doing,  in  our 
moments  of  recreation,  to  strengthen  us  for  work  to 
come,  and  to  gild  with  beautiful  recollections  our  daily 
life  of  home  duties ; — this,  indeed,  is  delightful,  and  is 
a  pleasure  which  I  think  we  may  enjoy  without  restraint. 
England  has  other  destinies  than  these  countries, — I 


use  the  word  in  no  foolish  or  unchristian  sense, — but 
she  has  other  destinies ;  her  people  have  more  required 
of  them ;  with  her  full  intelligence,  her  restless  activity, 
her  enormous  means,  and  enormous  difficulties;  her 
pure  religion  and  unchecked  freedom;  her  form  of 
society,  with  so  much  of  evil,  yet  so  much  of  good  in  it, 
and  such  immense  power  confen-ed  by  it ;  her  citizens, 
least  of  all  men,  should  think  of  their  own  rest  or 
enjoyment,  but  should  cherish  every  faculty  and  improve 
every  opportunity  to  the  uttermost,  to  do  good  to  them- 
selves and  to  the  world.  Therefore  these  lovely  valleys, 
and  this  surpassing  beauty  of  lake  and  mountain,  and 
garden  and  wood,  are  least,  of  all  men,  for  us  to  covet ; 
and  our  country,  so  entirely  subdued  as  it  is  to  man  s 
uses,  with  its  gentle  hills  and  valle3's,  its  innumerable 
canals  and  coaches,  is  best  suited  as  an  instrument  of 
usefulness. 

Zurich,  Au^ist  7,  1829. 

4.  Chiavenna. — Once  more  I  must  recross  the  Alps 
to  Chiavenna,  which  certainly  is  amongst  the  most  extra- 
ordinary places  I  ever  beheld.  Its  situation  resembles 
that  of  Aosta  and  Bellinzona,  and  I  think,  if  possible, 
it  surpasses  them  both.  The  mountains  by  which  it  is 
enclosed  are  formed  of  that  hard  dark  rock  which  is 
so  predominant  in  the  lower  parts  of  the  Alps  on  the 
Italian  side,  and  which  gives  them  so  decided  a  cha- 
racter. Above  Chiavenna  their  height  is  unusually 
great,  and  their  magnificence,  both  in  the  ruggeduess 
of  their  form  and  the  steepness  of  their  cliffs,  as  in  the 
gigantic  size  of  the  fragments  which  they  have  thrown 
down  into  the  valley,  and  in  the  luxuriance  of  their 
chestnut  woods,  is  of  the  very  highest  degree.     The 

D 


-■'•^/siajS^'' 


:.  Ji.  J-  .•-f.v.'  ^^dtkst^s^Jtgit&^j 


'  "  iSLit*.'* 


■.     !& 


^%^i 


lE;5*ft'  'a»«*i%f  iSS»lSf^^;SSlfl:i£^^        " 


;..r»^!.'.'-',  '-.-="^182: 


"^'l^T''^^.'  -^ 


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81 


TRAVELLING   JOURNALS    IN    ITALY. 


gi*' 


elTcct,  too»  is  greater,  because  the  valley  is  so  much 
narrower  tluin  that  of  the  Ticino  at  Bellinzona,  or  of 
the  Dorea  Baltea  at  Aosta ;  in  fact  the  stream  is  rather 
a  torrent  than  a  river,  but  full  and  impetuous,  and 
surprisingly  clear,  although  the  snowy  Alps  from  which 
it  tiikes  its  source  rise  at  a  very  little  distance;  but 
their  substance  apparently  is  harder  than  that  of  the 
Alps  about  Mont  Blanc,  and  the  torrents  therefore  are 
far  purer  than  the  Dorea  or  the  Arve.  In  the  very 
midst  of  the  town  of  Chiavenna,  now  covered  with 
terrace  walls  and  vineyaids  to  its  very  summit,  stands 
an  enormous  fragment  of  rock,  once  detached  from  the 
neighbouring  mountains,  and  rising  to  the  height,  I 
suppose,  of  seventy  or  eighty  feet.  It  was  formerly 
occupied  by  a  fortress  built  on  its  top  by  the  Spaniards, 
in  their  wars  in  the  north  of  Italy;  but  it  all  looks 
(juiet  and  peaceful  now.  Miss  H.,  her  brother,  and  I 
wandered  out  before  dinner  to  take  a  scramble  amidst 
the  rocks  and  chestnuts.  We  followed  a  path  between 
the  walls  of  the  vineyards,  wide  enough  for  one  person 
only  till  it  led  us  out  amid  the  rocks,  and  then 
continued  to  wind  about  amongst  them,  leading  to  the 
little  grotto-like  dwellings  which  were  scattered  amongst 
them,  or  built  on  to  the  enormous  fragments  which 
cover  the  whole  mountain  side.  On  the  tops  of  these 
fragments,  however,  as  well  as  between  them,  a  vege- 
tation of  line  grass  has  contrived  to  establish  itself,  and 
the  chestnuts  twist  their  knotty  roots  about  in  every 
direction  till  they  find  some  fissure  by  wliicli  they  can 
strike  down  into  the  soil.  It  is  impossible  therefore  to 
picture  anything  more  beautiful  than  a  scramble  about 
these  mountains.     You  are  in  a  wood  of  the  most  mag- 


IvS-'s-. 


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TRAVELLING   JOURNALS   IN   ITALY. 


;i5 


nificent  trees,  shaded  from  the  sun,  yet  not  treading 
on  mouldering  leaves  or  damp  earth,  but  on  a  carpet  of 
the  freshest  spring  turf,  rich  with  all  sorts  of  flowers. 
You  have  the  softness  of  an  upland  meadow  and  the 
richness  of  an  English  park,  yet  you  are  amidst  masses 
of  rock,  now  rearing  their  steep  sides  in  bare  clifYs,  now 
hung  with  the  senna  and  the  broom,  now  carpeted  with 
turf,  and  only  showing  their  existence  by  the  infinitely- 
varied  form  which  they  give  to  the  ground,  the  number- 
less deep  dells,  and  green  amphitheatres,  and  deliciously 
smooth  platforms,  all  caused  by  the  ruins  of  the  moun- 
tain which  have  thus  broken  and  studded  its  surface, 
and  are  yet  so  mellowed  by  the  rich  vegetation  which 
time  has  given  them,  that  they  now  only  soften  it8 
character. 

This  to  mo  unrivalled  beauty  of  the  chestnut  woods 
was  very  remarkable  in  two  or  three  scenes  which  we 
saw  the  next  dav;  one  before  we  set  out  for  the 
Splugen,  when  we  drove  a  little  way  up  the  valley  of 
Chiavenna  to  see  a  waterfall.  The  fall  was  beautiful  in 
itself,  as  all  waterfalls  must  be,  but  its  peculiar  charm 
was  tliis,  that  instead  of  falling  amidst  copsewood,  as 
the  falls  in  Wales  and  the  North  of  England  generally 
do,  or  amidst  mere  shattered  rocks,  like  that  fine  one  in 
the  Valais  near  Martigny — here,  on  the  contrary,  the 
water  fell  over  a  cliff  of  black  rock  into  a  deep  rocky 
basin,  and  then  as  it  flowed  down  in  its  torrent  it  ran 
beneath  a  platform  of  the  most  delicious  grass,  on 
which  the  great  chestnut  trees  stood  about  as  finely  as 
in  an  English  park,  and  rose  almost  to  a  level  with  the 
top  of  the  fall,  while  the  turf  underneath  them  was 
8tee£>ed  hi  a  perpetual  dew  from  the  spray.     The  other 

D  2 


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36 


TRAVELLING   JOURNALS    IN    FRANCE. 


TRAVELLING   JOURNALS   IN    FRANCE. 


37 


scene  was  ou  the  road  to  Isola,  on  the  way  to  the 
Splugen,  in  the  valley  of  the  Lina.  It  is  rather  a  gorge 
than  a  valley,  so  closely  do  the  mountains  approach 
one  another,  while  the  torrent  is  one  succession  of  falls. 
Yet  just  in  one  place,  where  the  road  by  a  succession  of 
zigzags  had  wound  up  to  the  level  of  the  top  of  the 
falls,  and  where  the  stream  was  nnining  for  a  short 
space  as  gentle  and  as  limpid  as  one  of  the  clear  rapid 
chalk  streams  of  the  South  of  Hampshire,  the  turf 
sloped  down  gently  from  the  road  to  the  stream,  the 
great  chestnut  trees  spread  their  branches  over  it,  and 
just  on  its  smooth  margin  was  a  little  chapel,  with 
those  fresco  paintings  on  its  walls  which  are  so  constant 
a  remembrance  of  Italy.  Across  the  stream  there  was 
the  same  green  turf  and  the  same  chestnut  shade,  and 
if  you  did  not  lift  up  your  eyes  high  into  the  sky,  to 
notice  the  banner  of  insunnountable  cliff  and  mountain 
which  surrounded  you  on  each  side,  you  would  have 
had  no  other  images  before  you  than  those  of  the 
softest  and  most  delicate  repose,  and  of  almost  luxu- 
rious enjoyment. 

Auffiut  12,  1820. 

5.  Champagne. — Between  Brienne  and  Arcis  the 
valley  was  full  of  villages,  and  they  were  large  and 
comfortable  looking,  almost  every  cottage  having  a  good 
garden.  These  valleys  in  Champagne  are,  on  a  small 
scale,  what  Egypt  is  on  a  large  scale ;  highly  cultivated, 
and  with  a  crowded  population  along  the  streams,  be- 
cause all  the  country  on  either  side  of  the  valley  is  an 
uninhabitable  desert.  Arcis  is  a  very  poor  town,  and 
from  thence  to  Chalons  it  was  a  country  not  to  be  paral- 
leled, I  suppose,  in  civilized  Europe,  except  it  be  in 


Castile  in  Spain.  A  waste  it  was  not,  for  it  was  all  culti- 
vated, but  the  dreariness  of  a  boundless  view  all  brown 
and  dry,  corn-fields  either  cleared  or  ready  for  the  har- 
vest, without  a  tree  or  a  green  field,  or  a  house,  was 
exceedingly  striking,  and  Champagne  is  worth  seeing 
for  the  very  surpassing  degree  of  its  ugliness.  They 
are,  however,  in  several  places  beginning  to  plant  firs, 
and  if  this  system  be  followed,  the  aspect  as  well  as  the 
value  of  the  country  will  be  greatly  improved.  Chalons, 
at  a  distance,  looks  well;  and  the  green  valley  and 
fine  stream  of  the  Marne  are  quite  delicious  to  eyes 
accustomed  to  one  brown  extent  of  plain  or  table-land 
during  thirty  miles. 


VI.  Tour  in  North  of  Italy. 

ChamWrri,  July  17,  WW. 

1.  Continental  Liberalism. — The  state  of  feeling 

displayed  by ,  and  the  rest  of  the  party,  filled  me 

with  thoughts  that  might  make  a  volume.  It  was,  I 
fear,  certainly  unchristian  and  ultra-liberal ; — looking  to 
war  with  very  little  dismay,  but  anxious  to  spread  every- 
where what  they  considered  liberal  views,  "  les  Idees  du 

Siecle,"  and  so  intolerant  of  anything  old,  that  

made  it  a  matter  of  reproach  to  our  Government  that 
Guernsey  and  Jersey  still  retained  their  old  Norman 
laws.  They  were  strongly  Anti-Anglican,  regarding 
England  as  the  great  enemy  to  all  improvement  all  over 

the  world.     Now  as  to  mending and ,  that  is 

not  our  concern ;  but  for  ourselves,  it  did  till  me  with 
earnest  thoughts  of  the  fearful  conflict  that  must  soon 
take  place  between  the  friends  and  enemies  of  the  old 


S.i'-'i- 


^**;&i 


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TRAVELUNO   JOURNALS   IN   ITALY. 


89 


system  of  things,  and  the  provoking  intermixture  of 
evil  in  the  latter,  which  makes  it  impossible  to  sympa- 
thize wholly  in  Uieir  success.  I  was  struck,  too,  with 
the  total  isolation  of  England  from  the  European  world. 
We  are  considered  like  the  inhabitants  of  another  planet, 
feared  perhaps,  and  respected  in  many  points,  but  not 
loved,  and  in  no  respect  undei'stood  or  sympathized 
with.  And  how  much  is  our  state  the  same  with 
regard  to  the  Continent.  How  little  do  we  seem  to 
know,  or  to  value   their  feelings, — how  little  do  we 

appreciate  or  imitate  their  intellectual  progress 

Is  it  never  to  be  that  men  shall  be  at  once  Christians, 
and  really  liberal  and  wise:  and  shall  the  improvement 
of  our  social  condition  always  be  left  to  unhallowed 
hands  to  effect  it?  I  conclude  with  the  lament  of  the 
Persian  noble: — l;^6»<rr»j  cKtti  ttoXXu  ^pottovra  /ixuJtvoj 
K^arint ;  or  rather,  I  should  say,  it  would  be  ix^'<^n 
oav:viy  did  we  not  believe  that  there  was  One  in  whom 
infinite  wisdom  was  accompanied  with  infinite  power; 
and  whose  will  for  us  is  that  we  should  follow  after 
what  is  good  ourselves,  but  should  not  wonder  or  be 
disappointed  if  "  another  take  the  city,  and  it  be  called 
after  his  name."  There  is  a  want  of  moral  wisdom 
among  the  Continental  Liberals,  as  among  their  oppo- 
nents both  abroad  and  at  home,  which  makes  one 
tremble  to  follow  such  guides.     I  gave  my  Thucydides 

to ;  would  that  he  could  read  it  and  profit  by  it; 

for,  sad  to  say,  Thucydides  seems  to  me  to  have  been 
not  only  a  fairer  and  an  abler  man,  but  one  of  a  far 
sounder  moral  sense,  and  deeper  principle,  than  the 
modem  Liberals.  Between  what  a  Scylla  and  Charybdis 
does   the   state   of  society  seem   to  be  wavering,  the 


brute  ignorance  and  coarse  commonplace  selfishness  of 
the  Tories,  and  the  presumption  and  intellectual  fever 
of  the  Liberals.  *'  To  the  Jews  a  stumbling  block,  and 
to  the  Greeks  foolishness ;  but  to  them  who  believe, 
both  Jews  and  Greeks,  Christ,  the  power  of  God,  and 
the  wisdom  of  God," — A/x>j»  vai  f§;^of  Kv^a  'lijrotJ. 

July  2-i,  !«:«». 

2.  Varese. — We  arrived  here,  at  the  Star  inn,  the 
post,  about  a  quarter  after  five,  got  a  hasty  dinner,  and 

and  I  were  in  our  carnage,  or  rather  in  a  light 

cabriolet,  hired  for  the  purpose,  a  little  after  six,  to 
drive  about  two  miles  out,  to  the  fo(»t  of  the  mountiiin  of 
S.  Maria.  At  the  foot  of  the  mountain  we  began  to  walk, 
the  roa<l  being  a  sort  of  paved  way  round  the  mountain 
in  great  zigzags,  and  passing  by  in  the  ascent  about 
twenty  chapels  or  arches,  introductoiy  to  the  one  at  the 
summit.  Over  the  first  of  these  was  written,  *'  Her 
foundations  are  upon  the  holy  hills;"  and  other  pas- 
sages of  Scripture  were  written  over  the  succeeding  ones. 
In  one  of  these  chapels,  looking  in  through  the  window, 
we  saw  that  it  was  full  cf  waxen  figures  as  large  as  life, 
representing  the  Apostles  on  the  day  of  Pentecost;  and 
in  another  there  was  the  sepulchre  hewTi  out  of  the 
rock,  and  the  Apostles  coming,  as  on  the  morning  of 
the  Resurrection,  "to  see  the  place  where  Jesus  lay." 
I  confess,  these  waxen  figures  seemed  to  me  anything 
but  al)surd  ;  from  the  solemnity  of  the  place  altogether, 
and  from  the  goodness  of  the  execution,  I  looked  on 
them  with  no  disposition  to  laugh  or  to  criticise.  But 
what  I  did  not  expect  was  the  exceeding  depth  and 
richness  of  the  chestnut  shade,  through  which  the  road 


..tfei^^f;\';:''' 


s&fc?«f.^K^  to'th-'^  i. 


^*t^^;iiSit.{^ 


40 


TRAVELLING   JOURNALS   IN    ITALY. 


TRAVELLING  JOURNALS  IN   ITALV. 


41 


partially  ran,  only  coming  out  at  every  turning  to  the 
extreme  edge  of  the  mountain,  and  so  commanding  the 
view  on  every  side.  But  when  we  got  to  the  summit 
we  saw  a  path  leading  up  to  the  green  edge  of  a  cliff 
on  the  mountain  ahove,  and  wo  thought  if  we  could  get 
there  we  should  probably  see  Lugano.  Accordingly,  on 
we  walked;  till  just  at  sunset  we  got  out  to  the  crown 
of  the  ridge,  the  brow  of  an  almost  precipitous  cliff, 
looking  down  on  the  whole  mountain  of  S.  Maria  del 
Monte,  which  on  this  side  presented  nothing  but  a 
large  mass  of  rock  and  clitT,  a  perfect  contmst  to  the 
rich  wood  of  its  other  side.  But  neither  S.  Marin  del 
Monte,  nor  the  magnilicent  view  of  the  plain  of  Lom- 
bardy,  one  mass  of  rich  verdure,  enlivened  with  its  thou- 
sand white  houses  and  church  towers,  were  the  objects 
which  we  most  gazed  ujx)n.  We  looked  westward 
full  upon  the  whole  ninge  of  mountains,  behind  which, 
in  a  cloudless  sky,  the  sun  had  just  descended.  It  is 
utterly  idle  to  attempt  a  description  of  such  a  scene. 
I  counted  twelve  successive  mountain  outlines  between 
us  and  the  farthest  horizon ;  and  the  most  remote  of 
all,  the  high  pealvs  of  the  Alps,  were  brought  out 
strong  and  dark  in  the  glowing  sky  behind  them,  so 
that  their  edge  seemed  actually  to  cut  it.  Immediately 
below  our  eyes,  plunged  into  a  depth  of  chestnut  forest, 
vaiied  as  usual  with  meadows  and  villages,  and  beyond, 
embosomed  amidst  the  nearer  mountains,  lay  the  Lake 
of  Lugano.  As  if  everything  combined  to  make  the 
scene  perfect,  the  mountain  on  wliich  we  stood  was 
covered,  to  my  utter  astonishment,  with  the  Daphuo 
Cneorum,  and  I  found  two  small  pieces  in  flower  to 
ascertain   the   fact,   altbough  generally  it  was  out  of 


bloom.  We  stood  gazing  on  the  view  and  hunting 
about  to  find  the  Daphne  in  flower,  till  the  shades  of 
darkness  were  fast  rising ;  then  we  descended  from  our 
height,  went  down  the  mountain  of  S.  Maria,  refresh- 
ing ourselves  on  the  way  at  one  of  the  delicious  foun- 
tains which  are  made  beside  the  road,  regained  our 
carriage  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain,  and,  though  we 
had  left  our  coats  and  neckcloths  at  Yarese  before  we 
started,  and  were  hot  through  and  through  with  the 
skirmish,  yet  the  soft  air  of  these  summer  nights  has 
nothing  chilly  in  it,  and  we  were  only  a  little  refreshed 
by  the  coolness  during  our  drive  home.  I  now  look 
out  on  a  sky  bright  with  its  thousand  stars,  and  have 
obsen'ed  a  little  summer  lightning  behind  the  moun- 
tains. If  any  one  wishes  for  the  perfection  of  earthly 
beauty,  he  should  see  such  a  sunset  as  we  saw  this 
evening  from  the  mountain  above  S.  Maria  del  Monte. 

3.  Mule  track  above  the  Lake  of  Como,  under  tbe  chestnuts, 

July  25, 1830.   (Third  visit.) 

3.  CoMO.—  Once  more,  dearest  M ,  for  the  third 

time,  seated  under  these  delicious  chestnuts,  and  above 
this  delicious  lake,  with  the  blue  sky  above,  and  the 
green  lake  beneath,  and  Monte  Rosa  and  the  S.  Gothard 
and  the  Simplon  rearing  their  snowy  heads  in  the  dis- 
tance.   It  would  bo  a  profanation  of  this  place  to  use  it 

for  common  journal ;  I  came  out  here  with partly 

to  enjoy  the  associations  which  this  lake  in  a  peculiar 
manner  has  connected  with  it  to  my  mind.  Last  year 
it  did  not  signify  that  I  was  not  here,  for  you  were  with 
me;  but,  with  you  absent,  I  should  have  grieved  to 
have  visited  Como,  and  not  have  come  to  this  sweet 


■Ti^. 


r<i 


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TRAVELLING   JOURNALS   IN    ITALY. 


43 


spot.  I  see  no  change  in  the  scenery  since  T  was  last 
here  in  1827,  and  I  feel  very  little,  if  any,  iu  myself. 
Yet  for  me,  "summer  is  now  eblnng;"  since  I  was 
here  last,  I  have  passed  the  middle  point  of  man  s  life, 
and  it  is  hardly  possible  that  I  should  be  here  again 
without  feeling  some  change.  If  we  were  here  with 
our  dear  children,  that  itself  would  be  a  change,  and  I 
hardly  cxjiect  to  be  again  on  this  very  spot,  without 
having  them.  But  what  matters,  or  rather  what  should 
matter,  change  or  no  change,  so  that  the  decaying  body 
and  less  vigorous  intellect  were  but  accompanied  with  a 
more  thriving  and  more  hopeful  life  of  the  spirit.  It 
is  almost  awful  to  look  at  the  overwhelming  beauty 
around  me.  and  then  think  of  moral  evil ;  it  seems  as 
if  heaven  and  hell,  instead  of  being  separated  by  a 
great  gulf  from  one  another,  were  absolutely  on  each 
other's  confines,  and  in«leed  not  far  from  everv  one  of 
us.  aright  the  sense  of  moral  evil  be  as  strong  in  me 
as  my  dtlight  in  extemal  l^eauty,  for  in  a  deep  sense  of 
moral  evil,  more  perhaps  than  iu  anything  else,  abides 
a  saving  knowledge  of  God  I  It  is  not  so  much  to  ad- 
mire moral  good ;  that  we  may  do,  and  yet  not  be  our- 
selves conformed  to  it ;  but  if  we  really  do  abhor  that 
which  is  evil,  not  the  persons  in  whom  evil  resides,  but 
the  evil  which  dwelleth  in  them,  and  much  more  mani- 
festly and  certainly  to  our  own  knowledge,  in  our  own 
hearts — this  is  to  have  the  feeling  of  God  and  of 
Christ,  and  to  have  our  spirit  in  sympathy  with  the 
Spirit  of  God.  Alas !  how  easy  to  see  this  and  say  it 
— how  hard  to  do  it  and  to  feel  it  I  Who  is  sulhcient 
for  these  things?  No  one,  but  he  who  feels  and  really 
laments  his  own  insufiBciency.     God  bless  you,  my 


dearest  wife,  and  our  beloved  children,  now  and  ever- 
more, through  Clirist  Jesus. 

July  20,  18.10. 

4.  Influence  of  the  Clergy. — The  Laquais  de 
Place,  at  Padua,  was  a  good  one  of  his  kind,  and, 
finding  that  his  knowledge  of  French  was  much  less 
than  mine  of  Italian,  if  tliat  be  possible,  we  talked 
wholly  in  Italian.  He  said  that  the  taxes  now  were 
four  times  as  heavy  as  under  the  old  Venetian  govern- 
ment, or  under  the  French.  He  himself,  when  a 
young  man,  had  volunteered  into  the  republican  army, 
after  the  overthrow  of  the  Venetian  aristocracy  in  1797, 
and  had  fought  at  Marengo,  where  he  was  wounded. 
Ho  said  they  had  in  Padua  a  Casa  di  Ricovero, 
or  asylum  for  the  infirm  and  infant  poor,  and  here 
also,  he  said,  relief  was  given  to  men  in  full  age  and 
vigour,  when  they  were  thrown  out  of  employment. 
I  asked  how  it  was  suppt)rted.  He  said,  chiefly  by 
bequests;  for  whenever  a  man  of  property  died,  the 
priest  who  attended  him  never  failed  to  suggest  to  him 
that  he  should  leave  something  to  the  Casa  di  Ricovero; 
and  ho  seemed  to  think  it  almost  a  matter  of  course 
that  such  a  recommendation  should  be  attended  to.  It 
seems  then,  that  in  the  improved  state  of  society,  the 
influence  of  the  Catholic  clergy  is  used  for  purposes  of 
general  charity,  and  not  for  their  own  advantage ;  and 
who  would  not  wish  that  our  clergy  dared  to  exercise 
something  of  the  same  influence  over  our  higher 
classes,  and  could  prevent  that  most  unchristian  spirit 
of  family  selfishness  and  pride,  by  which  too  many  wills 
of  our  rich  men  are  wholly  dictated  ?  But  our  Church 
bears,  and  has  ever  borne,  the  marks  of  her  birth. 


wi^^^ip^^  f  -rn^^^^^SSri^l^P^^^ 


44 


TRAVELUNO   J0UBNAL8   IN   ITALY. 


TBATEIXING  JOURNALS  IN   ITALY. 


45 


The  child  of  regal  and  aristocratical  selfishness  and 
unprincipled  tyranny,  she  has  never  dared  to  speak 
boldly  to  the  great,  hut   has  contented   herself  with 
lecturing  the  poor.     *'  I  will  speak  of  thy  testimonies 
even  before  kings,  and  will  not  be  ashamed,"  is  a  text 
which  the  Anglican  Church,  as  a  national  institution, 
seems  never  to  have  caught  the  spirit  of.     Folly,  and 
worse  than  folly  is  it,  to  think  that  preaching  what  are 
called  ortliodox  doctrines   before   the  great  is  really 
preaching  to  them  the  Gospel.     Unless  the  particular 
conclusions    which    they    should    derive    from    those 
doctrines  be  impressed  upon  them;  unless  they  aro 
warned  against  the  particular  sins  to  which  they  are 
tempted  by  their  station  in  society,  and  urged  to  the 
particular  duties  which  their  political  and  social  state 
requires  of  them,  the  Gospel  will  be  heard  without 
offence,   and   tharfore,  one   may  almost   say,  without 
benefit.     Of  course   I   do   not  mean   offence  at   the 
manner  in  which  it  is  preached,  nor  offence  indeed,  at 
all,  in  the  common  sense  of  the  word;  but  a  feeling  of 
soreness  that  they  are  touched  by  what  they  hear,  a 
feeling  which  makes   the  conscience   uneasy,  because 
it  cannot  conceal  from  itself  that  its  own  practice  is 
faulty. 

LaL»ch,  August  3,  1830. 

5.  In  the  market-place  at  Meran  there  is  a  large 
statue  of  the  Virgin,  to  commemorate  two  deliverances 
from  the  French,  in  1706,  and  in  1709,  when  the 
enemy  on  one  occasion  came  as  far  as  Botzen,  and  on 
the  other  as  far  as  Glurns  and  Eyers.  But  this  is  so 
exactly  a  thing  after  the  manner  of  Herodotus,  that  I 
must  for  a  few  lines  borrow  his  language. 


"EcTrsxi  ^1  \f  fAta-v  T?  ayo^n  0Lyx>^fJL%  JyXtvov  AG*?*)??  »Xe|»- 
xaxov*  iffxl  li  TO  OLyxX^a.  xat  y^ai?JJ  xa»  ifytp  tlKua-fjiivov' 
xat  Tn  fJLif  xe^aXi)  t^;  Oiot/  crs^txiira*  o-re^aro?  uffri^uvf  rn 
i\  aT>)\ri  woXXa  iViyiy^scTrrccif  rh  ahiriy  to?  ava6>j/xaT05 
uxohiHyVfjLfya,  Hv  yap  croTf  [J^iycc?  ocfct  Ta(n>>,  w?  strtiv, 
EvpuTTYiV  toXj/xo?*  cTL'^va*  ^«  lytrono  roXewr  avacrracrisj,  6Ti 
$t  /xaXXoy  uy^uv  or,uj-siq  xat  ay^^&fruv  (^ovoi.  Ef  (jliv  wv 
fovru  tu  vohifJM  fAiyiCTTa  on  iratfruv  i^yot,  a^EOs^avTO  o*  Fa- 
Xntraj'   xa*   :roXti?  fw/xf»To  isa.v%<7\  rrta-i  'jrtpiuy,r,fji.Bir,a'i  woXio'tf 

0  aT*  a^riy  x/>Sy>o;.  Olroi  ol  TuXxtx^  'Afcrrptavoj?  etoAi- 
u,oV9'   tov  5i  * Avtrrcixvuv  ^otclhio^  to  TijwXixo*  eGvo?  »jv  vTtrtxoov. 

01  ^i  *Av5~rf»aroi  7roXXr,o-tv  ^^>3  /^axT^*  vixJiQeyTtj,  y.ccKuq 
«wao*^ov*  xou  irtck  rn^  iouviu*  ot^X^i  »!o»)  xaGtffTaTo  o  uyuv, 
Kai  tn^  fJLtn  TifuXi^o^  ytvtuiti)^  vTripf/Aap^ovTO  ol  fn;i^w^»ot, 
7rX>i9s»  i\  t-TTi^/JaXXoptivoi  TOf^  TotXaraq  Iq  rr,v  x^^*i^  las^i- 
;^o>To.  OoTOi  ^\  rx  /xty  aXX«  oriua-avTiq  £?  t?jv  ruv  Mi^xvuv 
ovK  u^iKOVTO,  tiTf  cTtrrt/p^**}  T»»*,  «*ts  t>j?  diov  o'vru  dtaOfi<r*jf. 
'AAAa  ye  c!  M«fa>o*  li  6«7o>  Tt  una^ifOfTtq  to  v^riyfAU,  xa»  ov 
rv^V  fjLoiXXov  ri  ^tai*  ivvoix  (Tu^i^tfXi  tots  vjyovfjLSvoi^  to  ti 
xyxXfxu  T>j  hiu  uvtbr,x.xv^  xa»  tT»  ?  to  >y»  aft,  uq  di  xv7r,» 
VifiyiytOfXiroif  ^ta^E^»T<t;^  Ti/xa)(7». 


6.  My  dearest  M- 


Angust  n,  1830. 

-,  this  book=''-  ought  surely  to 


begin  with  good  omens,  as  it  begins  on  our  wedding  day. 
How  much  of  happiness  and  of  cause  for  the  deepest 
thankfulness  is  contained  in  the  recollections  of  this 
day ;  for  in  the  ten  years  that  have  elapsed  since  our 
marriage,  there  has  been  condensed,  I  suppose,  as  great 
a  portion  of  happiness,  with  as  little  alloy,  as  ever 

•  A  new  volume  of  his  journal. 


Sir5a>faB»5^,-r-u.-     ^. 


h  ailifciiiBrift  III!  ArniiJr^  ^  'o^it 


UiJ*-.. 


^ifMS£^.,^^^s^^^i^i^X-M^m4:f^itS^-^%ff^^  ' 


I -J: 


4G 


TRAVELLING   JOURNAI^   IN    ITALY. 


marked  any  ten  years  of  human  existence.  It  is  im- 
possible to  look  back,  and  to  look  forsvards,  without  some 
feelings  of  awe  and  apprehension ;  for  the  future  cannot 
be  more  full  of  earthly  happiness  than  the  past,  and,  in 
all  human  probability,  must,  in  one  way  or  another,  be 
less  so.  Perhaps  it  is  best  that  it  should  be ;  for  one 
cannot  help  feeling  the  enormous  dispropoition  between 
desert  and  blessing ;  and  though  this  is  not  a  true  feel- 
ing, for  desert  has  nothing  to  do  with  it,  yet  the  unfit- 
ness for  blessings  is  a  real  and  just  consideration ;  a 
sickly  state  cannot  bear  such  delicious  fare  ;  a  constitu- 
tion that  has  so  much  to  struggle  with  should  be  braced 
with  a  harder  discipline  for  the  conflict.  And  yet  how- 
vain  would  any  such  considerations  be  to  alleviate  the 
actual  misery  of  a  change :  then  nothing  could,  I  think, 
tend  so  much  to  support  me  as  the  simple  consider- 
ation of  Christ's  example.  He  pleased  not  himself,  nor 
entered  into  his  rest  till  he  had  gone  through  the  worst 
extremity  of  evil.  Perhaps,  however,  the  best  way  of 
taking  such  anniversaiies  as  this  is,  not  by  speculating 
on  the  future,  or  on  how  we  could  bear  a  change,  but  by 
remembering  iion\  in  our  season  of  happiness,  that  it 
is  but  an  earnest  of  more,  if  we  receive  it  with  true 
thankfulness,  and  that,  let  come  what  will,  all  will  work 
to  good  if,  while  it  is  day,  we  labour  to  work  the  work 
that  is  set  before  us.  May  I  remember  this;  and 
remember  too,  that  God's  work  is  to  believe  on  Hira 
whom  He  hath  sent ;  that  is,  not  only  to  do  my  earthly 
business  honestly  and  zealously,  but  to  do  it  as  a 
Christian,  humbly  and  piously, — not  trusting  in  any 
degree  in  myself,  but  labouring  for  that  strength  which 
is  made  most  perfect  in  him  who  feels  his  own  weak- 


TRAVELLING    JOURNALS   IN    GERMANY.  47 

ness.     God  bless  us  both,  my  dearest  M ,  and  our 

dearest  children,  through  Christ  Jesus. 

August,  1830. 

7.  Visit  to  Niehuhr  at  Bonn*. — In  person  Nie- 
buhr  is  short,  not  above  five  feet  six,  or  seven,  I  should 
think,  at  the  outside ;  his  face  is  thin,  and  his  features 
rather  pointed,  his  eyes  remarkably  lively  and  benevo- 
lent. His  manner  is  frank,  sensible,  and  kind,  and  what 
Bunsen  calls  the  Teutonic  character  of  benevolence  is 
very  predominant  about  him,  yet  with  nothing  of  what 
Jelfrey  called,  on  the  other  hand,  the  beer-drinking 
heaviness  of  a  mere  Saxon.  He  received  me  very 
kindly,  and  we  talked  in  English,  which  he  speaks  very 
well,  on  a  great  number  of  subjects.  I  was  struck  with 
his  minute  knowledge  of  the  Text  and  Mss.  of  Thucy- 
dides,  and  with  his  earnest  hope,  several  times  repeated, 
that  we  might  never  do  away  with  the  system  of  classical 

education  in  England. — I  told  him  of s  nonsense 

about  Guernsey  and  Jersey,  at  which  he  was  very  much 
entertained,  but  said  that  it  did  not  surprise  him.  He 
said  that  he  was  now  much  more  inclined  to  change  old 
institutions  than  he  had  been  formerly,— but  "  possibly," 
said  he,  "  I  may  see  reason  in  two  or  three  years  to  go 
back  more  to  my  old  views."  Yet  he  anticipated  no  evil 
consequences  to  the  peace  of  Europe,  even  from  a  Re- 
public in  France,  for  he  thought  that  all  classes  of 
people  had  derived  benefit  from  experience. 

Niebuhr  spoke  with  great  admiration  of  our  former 
great  men,  Pitt  and  Fox,  &c.,  and  thought  that  we  were 

♦  This  account  of  his  visit  to  Niebuhr,  being  written  iu  the  car- 
riage on  the  journeys  of  the  subsequent  days,  was  interspersed  with 
remarks  on  the  route,  which  have  been  omitted. 


Ks= 


oMii^L 


y.i,^ 


^.^id^BSs^k-:^i.^j^|.-i^M^ 


■     •-i.^Trt-^iW'  -i^ 


■>S',.-5i(rT| 


48 


TRAVELLING  JOURNALS   IN   GERMANY. 


TRAVELLING   JOURNALS   IN   GERMANY. 


40 


degenerated ;  and  he  mentioned  as  a  very  absurd  thing 

a  speech  of ,  who  visited  liinn  at   Bonn,  that  if 

those  men  were  now  to  come  to  Hfe,  they  would  be 
thought  nothing  of  with  our  present  lights  in  political 
economy.  Niebuhr  asked  me  with  much  interest  about 
my  plans  of  religious  instniction  at  Rugby,  and  said 
that  in  their  Protestant  schools  the  business  began 
daily  with  the  reading  and  expounding  a  chapter  in  the 
New  Testament.  He  spoke  of  the  Catholics  in  Prussia, 
as  being  very  hypocntical,  that  is,  having  no  belief 
beyond  outward  profession.  Bunseu,  he  said,  was 
going  to  publish  a  collection  of  German  hymns  for  the 
Church  service.  Their  literature  is  very  rich  in  hymns 
in  point  of  quantity,  no  fewer  than  30,000,  and  out  of 
these  Bunsen  is  going  to  collect  the  best.  Nicbuhr's 
tone  on  these  matters  quite  satisiied  me,  and  made  me 
feel  sure  that  all  was  right.  He  spoke  with  great 
admiration  of  Wordsworth's  poetr}\  He  often  protested 
that  he  was  no  revolutionist,  but  he  said,  though  he 
would  have  given  a  portion  of  his  fortune  that 
Charles  X.  should  have  govenied  constitutionally,  and 
60  remained  on  the  throne,  "yet,"  said  he,  *' after  what 
took  place,  I  would  myself  have  joined  the  people  in 
Paris,  that  is  to  say,  I  would  have  given  them  my  advice 
and  direction,  for  I  do  not  know  that  I  should  have 
done  much  good  with  a  musket." — Niebuhr  spoke  of 
Mr.  Pitt,  that  to  his  positive  knowledge,  from  un- 
published State  Papers,  which  ho  had  seen,  Pitt  had 
remonstrated  most  warmly  against  the  coalition  at 
Pilnitz.  and  had  been  unwillingly  drawn  into  the  war 
to  gratify  George  III. — My  account  of  Niebuhr's  con- 
versation has  been  sadly  broken,  and  I  am  afraid  I 


cannot  recollect  all  that  I  wish  to  recollect.  He  said 
that  he  once  owed  his  life  to  Louis  Bonaparte,  who  in- 
terceded with  Napoleon  when  he  was  going  to  have 
Niebulir  shot;  and  promised  Niebuhr  that,  if  he  could 
not  persuade  his  brother,  he  would  get  him  twenty-four 
hours'  notice,  and  furnish  him  with  the  means  of 
escaping  to  England.  After  this  Niebuhr  met  Louis  at 
Rome,  and  he  said  that  he  did  not  well  know  how  to 
address  him  ;  but  he  thought  that  the  service  which  he 
had  received  from  him  might  well  excuse  him  for 
addressing  him  as  "  Sire."  He  asked  me  into  tlie 
drawing-room  to  drink  tea,  and  introduced  me  to  his 
wife.  Niebuhr's  children  also  were  in  the  room,  four 
girls  and  a  boy,  with  a  young  lady,  who,  I  believe,  was 
their  governess.  They  struck  me  as  very  nice  man- 
nered children,  and  it  was  very  delightful  to  see 
Niebuhr's  alTectionate  manner  to  thorn  and  to  his  wife. 
While  we  were  at  tea,  there  came  in  a  young  man  with 
the  intelligence  that  the  Duke  of  Orleans  had  been  pro- 
claimed king,  and  Niebuhr's  joy  at  the  news  was  quite 
enthusiastic.  He  had  said  before,  that  in  the  present 
state  of  society,  a  Republic  was  not  to  his  taste,  and 
that  he  earnestly  hoped  that  there  would  be  no  attempt 
to  revive  it  in  France.  He  went  home  with  me  to  my 
inn,  and  when  I  told  him  what  pleasure  it  would  give 
me  to  see  any  of  his  friends  in  England,  he  said  that 
there  was  a  friend  of  his,  a  nobleman,  who  was  thinking 
of  sending  his  son  to  be  educated  in  England.  The 
father  and  mother,  be  said,  were  pious  and  excellent 
people,  and  devoted  to  the  improvement  of  their  tenantry 
in  every  respect,  and  they  wished  their  son  to  be 
brought  up  in  the  same  views.     And  Niebuhr  said  that 

E 


m^^SkSfiA^iL. 


50 


TliAVELLlNG    JOURNALS   IN    GERMANY. 


TRAVELLING    JOURNALS   IN    GERMANY. 


51 


if  this  young  man  came  to  England,  he  should  be  very 
happy  to  avail  himself  of  my  offer.  And  he  expressed 
his  hope  that  you  and  I  might  be  at  Bonn  again  some 
day  together,  and  that  he  might  receive  us  under  his 
own  roof.  He  expressed  repeatedly  his  great  affection 
for  England,  saying  that  his  father  had  accustomed  him 
from  a  boy  to  read  the  English  newspapers,  in  order 
that  he  might  early  learn  the  opinions  and  feelings  of 
Englishmen.  On  the  whole,  I  was  most  delighted  with 
my  visit,  and  thought  it  altogether  a  great  contrast  to 
the  fever  and  excitement  of .  The  moral  supe- 
riority of  the  German  character  in  this  instance  was 
very  striking :  at  the  same  time  I  owe  it  to  the  French 
to  say,  that  now  that  I  have  learnt  the  whole  story  of 
the  late  revolution,  1  am  quite  satisfied  of  the  justice  of 
their  cause,  and  delighted  with  the  heroic  and  admirable 
manner  in  which  they  have  conducted  themselves. 
How  different  from  even  the  begiiming  of  the  first 
revolution,  and  how  satisfactory  to  find  that  in  this 
instance  the  lesson  of  experience  seems  not  to  have  been 
thrown  away. 

Auiritst,  1830. 

8.  Germ.\ny,  France,  and  England.— The  aspect 
of  Germany  is  certainly  far  more  pleasing  than  that 
of  France,  and  the  people  more  comfortable.  I  cannot 
tell  whether  it  really  is  so,  but  I  cannot  but  wonder 
at  Guizot  placing  France  at  the  head  of  European 
civilization:  he  means  because  it  is  superior  to  Ger- 
many in  social  civilization,  and  to  England  in  pro- 
ducing more  advanced  and  enlarged  individual  minds. 
Many  Englishmen  will  sneer  at  tliis  notion,  but  I 
think  it  is  to  a  certain  degree  >vell  founded,  and  thai 


our  intellectual  eminence  in  modern  times  by  no  means 
keeps  pace  with  our  advances  in  all  the  comforts  and 
effectiveness  of  society.      And  I  have  no  doubt  that 
our  miserable  system  of  education  has  a  great  deal  to 
do  with  it.     I  maintain  that  our  historians  ought  to  be 
twice  as  good  as  tbose  of  any  other  nation,  because 
our   social   civilization   is  perfect.  ......    Then, 

again,  our  habits  of  active  life  give  our  minds  an 
enormous  advantage,  if  we  would  work ;  but  we  do  not, 
and  therefore  the  history  of  our  own  country  is  at  this 
day  a  thing  to  be  done,  as  well  as  the  histories  of  Greece 
and  Rome.  Foreigners  say  that  our  insular  situation 
cramps  and  narrows  our  minds ;  and  this  is  not  mere 
nonsense  either.  If  we  were  not  physically  a  very 
active  people,  our  disunion  from  the  Continent  would 
make  us  pretty  nearly  as  bad  as  the  Chinese.  As  it  is, 
we  are  so  distinct  in  habits  and  in  feelin^rs,  owiurr 
originally  in  great  measure  to  our  insular  situation,  that 
I  remember  obsening  in  1815,  that  the  English  stood 
alone  amidst  all  the  nations  assembled  at  Paris,  and 
that  even  our  fellow  subjects,  the  Hanoverians,  could 
I  understand  and  sympathize  with  the  French  better  than 
I  with  us.  Now  it  is  very  true  that  by  our  distinctness 
we  bave  gained  very  much, — more  than  foreigners 
lean  undei-stand.  A  thorough  English  gentleman, — 
Christian,  manly,  and  enlightened, — is  more,  I  believe, 
than  Guizot  or  Sismondi  could  comprehend;  it  is  a 
finer  specimen  of  human  nature  than  any  other  countrv, 
T  believe,  could  furnish.  Still  it  is  not  a  perfect  speci- 
men by  a  great  deal ;  and  therefore  it  will  not  do  to 
I  contemplate  ourselves  only,  or,  contenting  ourselves 
jwith  saying  that  we  are  better  than  others,  scorn  to 

£  '2 


tt 


'■>.Vk6». 


arjtti 


rss^T^ 


5a 


IKAVELLINO  JOURNALS  IN  SCOTLAND. 


TUAVELLING  JOURNALS  IN  SCOTLAND. 


63 


amend  our  institutions  hy  comparing  them  with  those 
of  other  nations.  Our  travellers  and  our  exquisites 
imitate  the  outside  of  foreign  customs  without  dis- 
crimination, just  as  in  the  absurd  fashion  of  not  eating 
fish  with  a  knife,  borrowed  from  the  French,  who  do  it 
because  they  have  no  knives  fit  to  use.  But  monkeyish 
imitation  will  do  no  good ;  what  is  wanted  is  a  deep 
knowledge  and  sympathy  with  the  European  character 
and  institutions,  and  then  there  would  be  a  hope  that 
we  might  each  impart  to  the  other  that  in  which  we  are 
superior. 


VII.  Tour  in  Scotland. 

July,  1831. 

1.  I  was  at  Church  (at  Greenock)  twice  on  Sunday, 
once  at  the  Presbyterian  Church,  and  once  at  the 
Episcopal  Chapel.  My  impressions,  received  five 
veai*s  ago,  were  again  renewed  and  streimthened  as  to 
the  merits  of  the  Prr^byterian  Church  and  our  own. 
The  singing  is  to  Uic  delightful, — I  do  not  mean  the 
music,  but  the  heartiness  with  which  all  the  congrega- 
tion join  in  it.  And  I  exceedingly  like  the  local  and 
particular  prayers  and  addresses  which  the  freedom  of 
their  ser^-ices  allows  the  minister  to  use.  On  the  other 
hand,  the  people  should  be  protected  from  the  tedious- 
ness  or  dulness  of  their  minister;  and  that  is  ad- 
mirably effected  by  a  Liturgy,  and  especially  by  such  a 
Liturgy  as  ours.  As  to  the  repetitions  in  our  Service, 
they  arise  chietly  from  [the*]  folly  in  joining  two 
Services  into  one;  but  the  repetition  of  the  Lord's 
Prayer  I  can  hardly  think  objectionable ;  not  that  I 
*  An.  historical  mistake  has  beeu  here  corrected. — A.  P.  S. 


would  contend  for  it,  but  neither  would  I  complain  of 
it  Some  freedom  in  the  Service  the  minister  certainly 
should  have;  some  power  of  insertion  to  suit  the 
particular  time  and  place;  some  power  of  explaining 
on  the  spot  whatever  is  read  from  the  Scriptures, 
which  may  require  explanation,  or  at  any  rate  of  stating 
the  context.  It  does  seem  to  me  that  the  reforms 
required  in  our  Liturgy  and  Service  are  so  obvious,  and 
so  little  affect  the  system  itself,  that  their  long  omission  ' 
is  doubly  blamable.  But  more  remains  behind,  and 
of  far  greater  difficulty : — to  make  the  church  at  once 
popular  and  dignified.—to  give  the  people  their  just 
share  in  its  government,  without  introducing  a  de- 
mocratical  spirit,  —  to  give  the  Clergy  a  thorough 
sympathy  with  their  (locks,  without  altogether  lowering 
their  rank  and  tone.  When  Wesley  said  to  his 
ministers,  that  they  had  no  more  to  do  with  being 
gentlemen  tlwn  witli  being  dancing-masters,  to  fx\»  o^Bu; 
uiri,  TO  hi  vixoe.^ri».  In  Christ's  communication  with  His 
Apostles  there  is  always  a  marked  dignity  and  delicacy, 
a  total  absence  of  all  that  coarseness  and  vulgarity  into 
which  Wesley's  doctrine  would  infallibly  lead  us.  Yet 
even  in  Christ,  the  Lord  and  Master  of  His  Disciples, 
there  is  a  sympathy,  which  is  a  very  different  thing 
from  condescension,  a  spirit  of  unaffected  kindness 
and,  I  had  almost  said,  of  sociability,  which  the  spirit 
of  gentlemanliness  has  doubtless  greatly  dulled  in  the 
Church  of  England.  *'  I  have  called  you  friends,"  is  a 
text  which  applies  to  the  Christian  minister  in  his 
dealings  with  his  brethren  and  equals,  in  an  infinitely 
stronger  degree  than  it  could  do  to  Him,  who  was  our 
Lord  and  Master,  and  whose  calling  us  brethren  was 


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55 


not  of  nature,  but  out  of  tlie  condescension  of  His 
infinite  love.  And  he  who  shall  thus  far  keep  and  thus 
fur  get  rid  of  the  spirit  of  gentleraanliness,  would  go 
near  to  make  the  Church  of  England  all  but  perfect, 
no  less  in  its  popularity  than  in  its  real  deserving  of 

popularity,  xa*  wsp*  /aU  roCru*  a^cSw  iV*  tcc&Dto,  ayi»/At  oi 
IVi  70V  ct»u  Aoyon. 

July,  IR31. 

2.  Again  (at  Glasgow)  the  Scotch  minister's  sermon 
struck   me   as   addressed    more    ad    clerum    than   ad 
populura :  and  again  more  than  ever  I  felt  the  supe- 
riority   of   our    service.     I    cannot    say    how   doubly 
welcome  and  impressive  I  tliought  the  Lord's  Prayer, 
when  the  minister  (to  my  surprise  by  the  way)  used  it 
before  the  sermon.     Nothing,  it  seems  to  me,  can  be 
worse   than    the   introductory   prayers   of   the   Scotch 
Service,  to  judge  from  what  I  have  hitherto  heard:  the 
intercessory  prayer  after  the  sermon  is  far  simpler,  and 
there   the  discretion   given   to   the   minister   is  often 
happily  used.     But  altogether,  taking  their  Semee  as 
it  is,  and  ours  as  it  is,  I  would  far  rather  have  our  own  ; 
how  much  more,  therefore,  with  the  slight  improve- 
ments which  w.  iisily  might  introduce— if  only 

But  even  to  the  eleventh  hour  we  will  not  reform,  and 
therefore  we  shall  be  not,  I  fear,  reformed,  but  rudely 
mangled  or  overthrown  by  men  as  ignorant  in  their 
correction  of  abuses  as  some  of  us  are  in  their  main- 
tenance of  them.  Periodical  visitations  of  extreme 
severity  have  visited  the  Church  and  the  worid  at 
different  times,  but  to  no  human  being  is  it  given  to 
anticipate  which  will  be  the  final  one  of  all.     Only  the 


lesson  in  all  of  them  is  the  same.  "  If  the  righteous 
scarcely  be  saved,  where  shall  the  ungodly  and  the 
sinner  appear?"  And  in  each  of  these  successive 
"  comings  "  of  our  Lord,  how  little  is  the  faith  which 
He  has  found  even  among  His  professed  followers ! 
May  He  increase  this  faith  in  me,  and  those  who  are 
dearest  to  me,  ere  it  be  too  late  for  ever ! 


VI n.  Tour  in  France. 

Dover,  August  11, 1837« 

1.  Twenty  and  twenty -two  years  ago  I  was  backwards 
and  forwards  at  this  place,  being  then  a  young  man 
with  no  wife  or  children,  but  with  a  mother  whose 
house  was  my  home,  with  a  brother,  aunt  and  sisters. 
Ten,  eight,  and  seven  years  ago,  I  used  to  be  also 
passing  often  through  here ;  I  had  then  lost  my  dear 
brother,  and  latterly  my  dearest  mother,  and  I  had 
a  wife  and  children;  I  had  also  a  sister  living  here 
with  her  husband  and  children.  Now,  after  another 
period  of  seven  years,  I  am  here  once  more ;  with  no 
mother  or  aunt,  with  no  remains  left  of  my  early  home ; 
my  sister  who  did  live  here  has  lost  her  husband,  and 
now  lives  at  Rugby ;  but  I  have  not  only  my  dearest 
wife  with  me,  but — a  more  advanced  stage  of  life — 
three  dear  children  are  with  us,  and  their  pens  are  all 
busy  with  their  journals,  like  their  mother's  and  mine. 
So  Dover  marks  very  strikingly  the  several  periods 
of  my  life,  and  shows  me  how  large  a  portion  of 
my  space  here  I  have  already  gone  through. 

Then  for  the  world  at  large.  When  I  first  came 
here,  it  was  so  soon  after  Napoleon's  downfall,  that 


■.J   S'J 


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I  remember  bearing  from  one  of  the  passengers  iu  the 
packet  the  first  tidings  of  Labedoyere's  execution.  At 
my  second  and  third  visits,  the  British  array  still 
occupied  the  north  of  France.  My  second  period 
of  coming  here,  from  IS'25  to  1830,  marked  the  last 
period  of  the  old  Bourbon  reign  in  France,  and  the 
old  Tory  reign  in  England.  When  I  first  landed  here, 
it  was  in  the  brief  interval  between  the  French  and 
Belgian  Revolutions :  it  was  just  after  the  triumphant 
election  of  1830  in  England,  which  overthrew  the 
ministry  of  the  Duke  of  Wellington,  and  led  to  the 
lieform  Bill.  And  now  we  seem  to  be  witnessing  the 
revival  of  Toryism  in  England,  perhaps  of  the  old 
Bourbon  principles  in  part  of  France.  The  tide  is 
turned,  and  will  advance  no  higher  till  the  ne.\t  flood ; 
let  us  only  hope  that  its  ebb  will  not  be  violent;  and 
in  the  meanwhile  our  neighbours  have  got  rid  of 
the  white  flag,  and  we  have  got  rid  of  the  rotten 
boroughs  of  Schedule  A.  This  is  a  clear  gain  ;  it  is  a 
question  whether  the  positive  good  which  either  of 
us  have  gained,  is  equal  to  the  positive  evil  which 
we  have  destroyed ;  but  still  in  the  course  of  this 
world,  Seeva  the  destroyer  is  ever  needed,  and  in  our 
imperfect  state,  the  very  deliverance  from  evil  is  a 
gratification  and  a  good. 

On  Saturday  lust  we  were  at  our  delicious  West- 
moreland home,  at  that  dear  Fox  How  which  I  love 
beyond  all  other  spots  of  ground  iu  the  world,  and 
expatiating  on  the  summit  of  our  familiar  Faii-field. 
There  on  a  cloudless  sky  we  were  beholding  the  noble 
outline  of  all  our  favourite  mountains ;  the  Old  Man, 
Wetherlam,  Bow  Fell^  Scaw  Fell,  Great  Gable,  the 


Langdale  Pikes,  the  Pillar,  Grassmoor,  Helvellyu, 
Place  Fell,  High  Street,  Hill  Bell ;  there  we  saw  Ulles- 
water  and  Coniston,  and  our  own  Winandermere,  and 
there  too  we  looked  over  a  wide  expanse  of  sea  of  the 
channel  which  divides  England  from  Ireland.  On 
Tuesday  last  we  were  at  our  dear  Rugby  home ;  seeing 
the  long  line  of  our  battlements  and  our  well-known 
towers  backed  by  the  huge  elms  of  the  school-field, 
which  far  overtopped  them ;  and  looking  on  the  deep 
shade  which  those  same  elms,  with  their  advanced 
guard  of  smaller  trees  and  shrubs,  were  throwing  over 
the  turf  of  our  quiet  garden.  And  now,  on  Friday 
morning,  we  are  at  an  inn  at  Dover,  looking  out  on  the 
castle  and  white  cliffs  which  are  so  linked  with  a  thou- 
sand recollections ;  beholding  the  sea,  which  is  the  high- 
way from  all  the  life  of  England  to  all  the  life  of  Europe, 
and  beyond  there  stretches  out  tlie  dim  line  of  darker 
shadow  which  we  know  to  be  the  very  land  of  France. 

And  besides,  in  this  last  week,  1  have  been  at 
an  Election ;  one  of  those  great  occasions  of  good  or 
evil  which  are  so  largely  ministered  to  Englishmen; 
an  opportunity  for  so  much  energy,  for  so  much  risin*^ 
beyond  the  mere  selfishness  of  domestic  interests,  and 
the  narrowness  of  mere  individual  or  local  pursuits; 
but  an  opportunity  also  for  every  base  and  bad  passion; 
for  corruption,  for  fear,  for  tyranny,  for  mahguity. 
Such  is  an  election,  and  such  is  all  human  life ;  and 
those  who  rail  against  these  double-handed  appoint- 
ments of  God,  because  they  have  an  evil  handle  as 
well  as  a   good*,  may  desire  the  life  of  the   Seven 

•  "  The  Epicureans,"  he  said,  "did  not  meddle  with  politics,  that 
they  might  be  as  quiet  as  possible  from  the  strife  of  tongues.    There 


J.^* 


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59 


Sleepers,  for  then  only  can  opportunities  of  evil  be 
taken  from  us,  when  we  lose  also  all  opportunity  of 
doing  or  of  becoming  good.  However,  even  as  an  occa- 
sion of  evil,  there  is  no  doubt  that  our  elections  are  like 
an  inoculating  for  a  disorder,  and  so  mitigating;  the 
party  spirit  and  the  feuds  which  now  spend  themselves 
in  bloodless  contests,  would,  if  these  were  away,  find  a 
far  more  deadly  vent;  they  solve  that  great  problem 
how  to  excite  a  safe  and  regulated  political  activity. 

We  also  in  the  course  of  the  week  have  been 
tmvelling  on  the  great  niilway  from  Manchester  to 
Birmingham.  The  distance  is  ninety-five  miles,  which 
we  accomplished  in  five  hours.  Nothing  can  be  more 
delightful,  as  well  as  more  convenient.  It  was  very 
beautiful  too,  to  be  t^iken,  as  it  were,  into  the  deepest 
retirement  of  the  country,  surprising  lone  farm-houses 
and  outlying  copses  with  the  rapid  darting  by  of  a  hun- 
dred passengers,  yet  leaving  their  quiet  unbroken ;  for 
no  houses  have  as  yet  gathered  on  the  line  of  the  railway, 
and  no  miscellaneous  passers  at  all  times  of  the  day  and 
night,  serve  to  keep  it  ever  in  public.  Only  at  inter- 
vals, four  or  five  times  a  day,  there  rushes  by  the  long 
train  of  carriages,  and  then  all  is  as  quiet  as  before. 

We  also  passed  through  London,  with  which  I  was 
once  so  familiar;  and  which  now  I  almost  gaze  at  with 
the  wonder  of  a  stranger.  That  enormous  city,  grand 
beyond  all  other  earthly  grandeur,  sublime  with  the 
sublimity  of  the  sea  or  of  mountains,  is  yet  a  place  that 

are  good  people  who  do  this  now,  reinaiuing  in  willing  ignorance  of 
what  is  going  on.  But  the  mischief  is,  they  cannot  set  their  passions 
to  sleep  as  they  can  their  understanding;  and  when  they  do  come  to 
interfere,  they  are  violent  and  prejudiced  in  proportion  to  their  igno- 
rance.   Such  men,  to  be  consistent,  should  live  like  bimou  Stylites." 


1  should  be  most  sorry  to  call  my  home.  In  fact  its 
greatness  repels  the  notion  of  home;  it  may  be  a 
palace,  but  it  cannot  be  a  home.  How  different  from 
the  mingled  greatness  and  sweetness  of  our  mountain 
valleys ;  and  yet  he  who  were  strong  in  body  and  mind 
ought  to  desire  rather,  if  he  must  do  one,  to  spend  all 
his  life  in  London,  than  all  his  life  in  Westmoreland. 
For  not  yet  can  energy  and  rest  be  united  in  one,  and 
tbis  is  not  our  time  and  place  for  rest,  but  for  energy. 

Chartreg,  August,  IH-T?. 

2 Chartres  was  a  very  fine  termination  of 

our  tour.  We  stopped  at  the  Hotel  du  Grand 
Monarque,  on  an  open  space  just  at  the  outside  of 
the  town,  and  from  thence  immediately  made  our  way 
to  the  Cathedral.  The  high  tower,  so  celebrated  all 
over  France,  is  indeed  remarkably  beautiful ;  but  the 
whole  church  far  surpassed  my  expectations.  The 
portails  of  both  transepts  are  rich  in  figures  as  large  as 
life,  like  the  great  portail  at  Rheirns ;  the  rose  windows 
over  them  are  very  rich,  and  the  windows  all  over  the 
church  are  most  rich  in  painted  glass.  The  size  is 
great,  a  very  essential  element,  I  thiuk,  in  the  merits 
of  a  cathedral,  and  all  the  back  of  the  choir  was 
adorned  mt\\  groups  of  figures  in  very  high  relief, 
which  had  an  extremely  fine  effect.  These  are  all  the 
proper  and  perpetual  beauties  of  Chartres  Cathedral ; 
but  we  happened  to  see  it  on  the  Festival  of  the 
Assumption,  when  the  whole  church  was  full  of  peoi^le 
in  every  part,  when  the  service  was  going  on  in  the 
choir,  and  the  whole  building  was  ringing  with  the 
peals  of  the  organ,  and  with  the  voices  of  the  numerous 


le^^^e^^^ 


1-       ■,'f    «»-'**■!!. 


tUMdMsdii^hmimmMMismBmsfi 


'li^^mmmmmmWffm'^^ 


t;js?pf9KSSi»r 


^^^^^^^m^^'m^^^^^^^^^^ 


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61 


?>^ 


congregation.  Unchristian  as  was  the  service,  so  that 
one  could  have  no  sympathy  with  it  in  itself,  yet  it  was 
delightful  to  contrast  the  crowded  state  of  the  huge 
building, — nave,  transepts,  and  aisles,  all  swarming 
with  people,  and  the  sharing  of  all  in  the  8er^'ice, — 
with  the  nakedness  of  our  own  cathedrals,  where  all, 
except  the  choir,  is  now  merely  a  monument  of  archi- 
tecture. There  is  no  more  provoking  confusion  to  my 
mind,  than  that  which  is  often  made  between  the 
mafniiricence  and  beautv  of  the  Romish  Church  and  its 

o  - 

superstitions.  No  one  abhors  more  than  I  do  the 
essence  of  Popery,  i.  e.  Priestcraft ;  or  the  setting  up  a 
quantity  of  human  mediators,  interpreters,  between 
God  and  man.  But  this  is  retained  by  those  false 
Protestants  who  call  themselves  High  Churchmen ; 
while  they  have  sacrificed  of  Popery  only  its  better  and 
more  popular  parts ;  its  beauty  and  its  impressiveness. 
On  the  other  hand,  the  Puritans  and  Evangelicals, 
whilst  they  disclaim  Popery,  undervalue  the  authority 
and  power  of  the  Church,  not  of  the  Clergy,  and  have  a 
bibliolatr}',  especially  towards  the  Old  Testament,  quite 
as  foolish  and  as  mischievous  as  the  superstition  of  the 
Catholics.  The  open  churches,  the  varied  services,  the 
beautiful  solemnities,  the  processions,  the  Calvaries, 
the  crucifixes,  the  appeals  to  the  eye  and  ear  through 
which  the  heart  is  reached  most  etfectually,  have  no 
natural  connexion  with  superstition.  People  forget 
that  Christian  worship  is  in  its  essence  spiritual, — that 
is,  it  depends  for  its  efficacy  on  no  circumstances 
of  time  or  place  or  form, — but  that  Christianity  itself 
has  given  us  the  best  helps  towards  making  our 
woi*ship  spiritual  to  us,  that  is,  sincere  and  lively,  by 


the  visible  images  and  signs  which  it  has  given  us  of 
God  and  of  heavenly  things ;  namely,  the  Person  of 
the  Man  Christ  Jesus,  and  the  Sacraments*. 

To  forbear,  therefore,  from  all  use  of  the  Humanity 
of  Christ,  as  an  aid  to  our  approaching  in  heart  to  the 
Invisible  Father,  is  surely  to  forfeit  one  of  the  merciful 
purposes  of  the  Incarnation,  and  to  fall  a  little  into 
that  one  great  extreme  of  error,  the  notion  that  man 
can  either  in  his  understanding,  or  in  his  heart, 
approach  to  the  Eteraal  and  Invisible  God,  without  the 
aid  of  a  fxicrlrt,,-  or  "interpres;"  (the  English  word, 
'•  IMediator,"  has  become  so  limited  in  its  sense,  that  it 
does  not  reach  to  the  whole  extent  of  the  case,)  we 
want  not  an  intei-preter  only,  but  a  medium  of  commu- 
nication,—some  middle  point,  in  which  the  intelligible 

•  "  The  true  use  of  Scripture  is  that  it  is  a  direct  guide  so  far  forth 
as  we  are  circumstauced  exactly  like  the  persons  to  whom  it  was 
originuJly  addressed;  that  where  the  diftereuces  are  great,  there  it  is 
a  guide  by  analogj- ;  i.  c.  if  so  and  so  was  the  duty  of  men  so  circum- 
stanced, therefore,  so  and  so  is  the  duty  of  men  circumstanced  thus 
otherwise;  and  that  thus  we  shall  keep  the  spirit  of  God's  revelation 
even  whilst  utteriy  disregarding  the  letter,  when  the  circumstances 
are  totally  diflerent.    For  example,  the  second  commandment  is  in 
the  letter  utterly  done  away  with  by  the  fact  of  the  Incarnation. 
To  refuse  then  the  benefit  which  we  might  derive  from  the  frequent 
use  of  the  crucifix  under  pretence  of  the  Second  Commandment  is 
a  folly,  because  God  has  sanctioned  one  conceivable  simihtude  of 
himself  Avhen  He  declared  Himself  in  the  jxirsou  of  Christ.    The 
spirit  of  the  commandment,  not  to  think  unworthily  of  the  Divine 
nature,  nor  to  lower  it  after  our  own  devices,  is  violated  by  aU  un- 
scriptural  notions  of  God's  attributes  and  dealings  with  men  such 
as  we  see  and  hear  broached  daily,  and,  though  in  a  less  imp(irtant 
degree,  by  those  representations  of  God  the  Father  which  one  sees 
in  Catholic  pictures,  and  by  the  foolish  way  in  which  people  allow 
themselves  to  talk  about  God  the  Holy  Ghost,  as  of  a  dov^''-^*- 
tract  from  Utters,  1831.     Life,  p.  243. 


aL-Si^lgW^^i^a 


aS^'i^.iyi^i  i-Siiiij>'^-Lsa^slf^:ii^.!&^»^i^hi^S 


i^teSeisafeftatliStPiiSssSBa^^ 


SA. 


62       TIUVELLING   JOURNALS   IN    SOUTH   OF    FRANCE. 

may  unite  with  the  perfections  of  the  unintelligible, 
and  SO  may  prepare  us  hereafter  to  understand  Him 
who  is  now  unintelligible. 

I  think  that  this  is  important,  for  many  reasons, 
both  as  regards  Popery  and  our  Pseudo-Popery,  and 
Evangelicalism  and  Unitariauism.  The  errors  of  all 
four  seem  to  How  out  of  a  confusion  as  to  the  great 
truth  of  our  need  of  a  fjLio-iTnq,  and  of  the  various  ways 
in  which  Christ  is  our  One  /xicriTrjf,  and  that  with 
infinite  perfectness. 

IX.  Tour  in  the  South  of  France. 

Paris.  July  14,  1839. 

1 But  really,  when  we  went  out  on  these 

leads,  and  looked  down  on  the  whole  mass  of  the  trees 
of  the  Tuilleries'  garden,  forming  a  luxuriant  green 
bed  below  us,  and  saw  over  them  the  gilded  dome  of 
the  Invalids,  and  the  mass  of  the  Tuilleries,  and  the 
rows  of  orange  trees,  and  the  people  sitting  at  their 
ease  amongst  tliem,  and  the  line  of  the  street  not 
vanishing,  as  in  London,  in  a  thick  cloud  of  smoke  oi 
fog,  but  with  the  white  houses  as  far  as  the  eye  could 
reach  di>^tinct  on  the  sky, — and  that  sky  just  in  the 
western  line  of  the  street,  one  blaze  of  gold  from  the 
setting  sun, — not  a  weak  wateiy  sun,  but  one  so  mighty 
that  his  setting  was  like  the  death  of  a  Caesar  or  a 
Napoleon,— of  one  mighty  for  good  and  for  evil,— of 
one  to  be  worshipped  by  ignorant  men,  either  as  God 
or  Demon. — one  hardly  knew  whether  to  rejoice  or  to 
grieve  at  his  departure; — when  we  saw  all  this,  we 
could  not  but  feel  that  Paris  is  full  of  the  most 
poetical  beauty. 


TRAVELLING  JOURNALS  IN  SOUTH  OF  FRANCE.   C3 

Cosnc,  July  10,  1839. 

- The  wide  landscape  under  this  bright 

sky  looks  more  than  joyous,  and  the  sun  in  liis  un- 
obstructed course  is  truly  giant-like.     Here  one  can 
uudersuuid  how  men  came  to  worship  the  sun,  and  to 
depict  him  with  all  images  of  power  and  of  beauty,— 
armed  with  his  resistless  arrows,  yet  the  source  of  life 
and  light.     And  yet  feeling,  as  none  can  feel  more 
strongly,  the  evils  of  the  state  of  England,  yet  one 
cannot  but  see  also,  that  the  English  are  a  greater 
people   than   these,— more   like,    that   is,  one   of  the 
chosen  people  of  history,  who  are  appointed  to  do  a 
great  work  for  mankind.     We  are  over  bustling,  but 
there  is  less  activity  here,  without  more  repose.°  But 
however,  "it  is  not  expedient,  doubtless;"  and  have 
uot  we  failed  to  improve  the  wonderful  talents  which 
have  been  given  to  us  ? 

Aries,  July  20,  1832. 

3.  Avignon.— We  have  just  been  walking  round  this 
town,  after  having  first  been  down  to  the  Bhone,  and 
had  a  bathe  in  him,  which,  as  we  had  seen  so  much  of 
him,  was,  I  thought,  only  a  proper  compliment  to  him. 

But  I  ought  to  go  back  in  order,  dearest  M ,  to 

the  Pope's  palace  at  Avignon,  only  this  heat  makes 'me 
lazy.  There  was  an  old  porter  who  opened  to  us  the 
iirst  gate,  and  led  us  into  an  enormous  court  full  of 
soldiers,  for  it  is  now  used  as  a  barrack;  then  he 
opened  a  door  into  a  long  gallery,_perhaps  100  feet 

long,— through  which  we  were  to  pass The 

rooms  beyond  were  scenes  not  to  be  forgotten  :-prisons 
where  unhappy  men  had  engraved  their  names  on  the 
stones,  and  mottoes,  mostly  from  Scripture,  expressina 


V'i 


*-" 


i<iJ^^i^^^£MM: 


'■3?%.-^S^' 


?vt  ■  -'  • 


tE^3 


64       TRAVELLING   JOUliNALS   IN   SOUTH    OF   FRANCE. 

their  patience  and  their  hope.     One  man  liad  carved 
simply  our  Lord's  name,  as  if  it  gave  him  a  comfort  to 
write  it;  there  was  I.  H.  S.,  and  notliing  more.     Some 
of  these  dens  had  hecn  the  torture-rooms,  and  one  was 
so  contrived  in  the  roof  and  walls  as  to  deaden  all 
sound :  while  in  another  there  was  a  huge  stone  trough, 
in  which  the  question  "  a  I'euu  houillaute  "  used  to  be 
put ;  and  in  yet  another  the  roof  was  still  hhickened 
by  the  fires  in  which  the  victims  had  been  burnt  alive. 
One  of  these  same  rooms,  long  since  disused  by  the 
Inquisition,  had  been  chosen  as  the  prison  and  scene  of 
the  murder  of  the  victims  of  the  aristocratical  party  in 
the  massacre  in  1700;  and  in  it  there  was  a  sort  of 
trap-iloor,  through  Nvhich  the  bodies  were  thrown  down 
into  the  lowest  room  of  the  tower,  which  was  then  used 
as  an  ice-house.     And  the  walls  of  the  intermediate 
room  were  visibly  streaked  with  the  blood  of  those  who 
were  so  thrown  down  after  they  had  been  massacred*. 

July,  1R3D. 

4 We  are  now  between  the  Lion  d'Or  and 

Salon,  on   the  famous   Plaine   de  Crau,  or   Plain  of 

♦  "  Provence  for  surpassed  my  expectations;  the  Roman  remains 
at  Aries  are  magnificent;  and  the  prisons  in  the  Pope's  Palace,  at 
Avignon,  were  one  of  the  most  striking  things  1  ever  saw  in  niy  life. 
In  the  solfsjune  dungeon  the  roof  was  still  black  witli  the  smoke  of 
the  Inquisition  fires,  in  which  men  were  torture<i  or  burnt;  and, :. 
you  looked  down  a  trap-door  into  an  apartment  below,  the  walla 
were  .still  marked  with  the  blood  of  the  victims  whom  Jourdan 
Coupe  TCte  threw  down  there  into  the  Ice-house  below  in  the 
famous  massacre  of  1701.  It  was  very  awful  to  »ee  such  traces  of 
the  two  great  opposite  forms  of  all  human  wickedness,  which  I  know 
not  how  to  describe  better  than  by  calling  them  Priestcraft  and 
Benthamism,  or,  if  you  like,  AVhitc  and  Red  Jacobinism."— A(/«  and 
Letters,  p.  483. 


TRAVELLING  JOURNALS  IN  SOUTH  OF  FRANCE.   65 

Stones,  one  vast   mass  of  pebbles,   which   cover   the 
couutiy  for  several   leagues,  and   reduce   it   to   utter 

barrenness We   are   now  in   the   midst   of 

this  plain  of  stones,  utter  desolation  on  every  side,  the 
magnificent  line  of  the  Alpines,  as  they  are  called,  or 
Provence  mountiiins,  stretching  on  our  left;  and  on  our 
right,  close  along  by  the  roadside,  runs,  full  and  fresh 
and  lively,  a  stream  of  water,  one  of  the  channels  of 
irrigation  brought  from  the  Durance,  and  truly  giving 
life  to  the  thirsty  land.     -  He  maketh  the  wilderness  a 
running  water,"  might  be  said  truly  of  this  life  in  the 
midst  of  death.     Here  are  two  houses  just  built  by  the 
roadside,  and  opposite  to  them  a  little  patch  of  ground 
just  verdured,  surrounded  by  a  little  belt  of  cypresses 
and  willows ;  now,  again,  all  is  desolate,— all  but  the 
hviug  stream  on  our  right,  and  some  sheep  wandering 
on  the  left  amidst  the  stones,  and  living  one  sees  not 
how.     The  sun  has  just  set  over  this  vast  plain,  just  as 
at  sea.     Keeds  aud  yeUow  thistles  fringe  the  stream. 

Salon,  July  20,  18.W. 

We  have  stopped  here  on  our  way  to  Marseilles  from 
Aries,  aud  I  really  never  saw  anything  more  romantic 
than  it  is.  There  are  tall  trees,  one  very  fine  plane 
amongst  them  in  the  middle  of  the  street,  and  under 
their  shade  is  a  fountain  playing,  which  makes  a 
perpetual  music— up  above  is  the  cloudless  sky,  and 
the  almost  full  moon,  and  below,  in  full  activity, 
IS  the  population  of  Salon. .  They  crowded  round  the 
carriage,  as  there  was  some  difficulty  in  getting  open 
the  boot,  and  I  could  have  fancied  myself  in  Spain 
to  see  their  dark  faces  and  eyes,  their  grave  manner. 


'■If' 


06       TRAVELLING   JOURNALS   IN    SOUTH    OF   FRANCE. 

their  white  felt  hats,  worn  alike  by  man  and  boy,  and 
to  hear  their  Provencal  language,  which  sounds  more 
like  Spanish  than  French,  and  is  indeed  quite  as  like 
one  as  the  other,  and  the  old  lille  of  the  inn  might 
I  or   Spanish   anywhere.     But  what   a   difference 

is  made  by  good  laws  and  regular  goveniment;  here 
all  is  peace  and  civility,  while  on  the  other  side  of 
the  Pvrenees  all  is  blood  and  hatred.  The  bed-rooms 
here  are  French  enough,  but  I  suspect  that  there 
would  be  many  things  thoroughly  Spanish  if  I  were 
to  pry  into  the  mysteries  of  the  kitchen  and  back 
settlements. 

Left  Salon  5.40.  I  am  so  glad  we  did  not  go 
on  last  night,  dearest,  for  we  should  have  lost  a  great 
deal.  Salon  is  at  the  end  of  the  Plain  of  Stones 
overhun'7  by  tl  ^ky  hills  in  tiers  of  cliff,  but 
no  longer  bare,  but  covered  with  olives  and  mulberries. 
We  made  our  way  up  to  ihe  top  of  these  hills,  and 
opened  on  a  view  of  a  character  such  as  I  liad  never 
seen.  It  was  the  French  picture  in  point  of  breadth 
and  richness,  set  in  an  Italian  frame-work  of  mountains, 
and  with  the  details,  as  to  the  buildings  which  are 
scattered  over  the  valley  and  the  profusion  of  olives 
and  mulberries,  very  much  as  I  imagine  like  Spain. 

Point  ohovo  St.  CorjniM,  Augiift  2,  19X>, 

6 I   am   come   out    alone,   my   dearest 

to  this  spot, — the  point  almost  of  our  own  view,  to  see 
the  morning  sun  on  Mont  J31anc  and  on  the  Lake,  and 
to  look  with  more,  I  trust,  than  outward  eyes  on 
this  glorious  scene.  It  is  overpowering,  like  all  other 
intense  beauty,  if  you  dwell  upon  it ;  but  I  contrast  it 


TRAVl:.LLiNU    JOtliNALS    IN    SOUTH    OF    FRANCE.        07 

immediately  with   our    Rugby  horizon,   and   our  lifr 
of    duty   there,    and    our  cloudy   sky   of    England- 
clouded  socially,  alas  !  far  more  darkly  than  physicallr. 
But,  beautiful  as  this  is,  and  peaceful,  may  I  never 
breathe  a  wi.sh  to   retire   hither,  even  with  you  and 
our    darlings,   if   it   were    possible;    but   mny   I    be 
strengthened   to  labour,  and  to  do  and  to  suiTer  in 
our   own    beloved   countiy^  and    Church,  and    to   give 
my  life,   if    so   called   upon,   for   Christ's   cause  and 
for  them.     And  if— as  I  trust  it  will— this  rambling 
and  this  beauty  of  nature  in  foreign  lands,  shall  have 
strengtlieued    me    for    my   work   at    home,    then  we 
may  both  rejoice  that  we  have  had  this  little  parting 
And  now  I  turn  away  from  the  Alps,  and  from  tlie 
south,  and   may  God   speed   us   to   one  another,  and 
bless  us  and  ours,   in   Ilira   and  in   His   Son,  now 
and  for  ever. 

August  4, 1«:»3. 

^ I<^  is  curious  to  observe  how  nations 

run  a  similar  course  with  each  other.  We  are  now 
on  a  new  road,  made  by  some  private  speculators, 
^vith  a  toll  on  it,  and  ihey  laud  it  much  as  a 
great  improvement.  And  such  it  is  reallv :  yet  it 
is  quite  like  -Bit  and  Bit,"*  at  Whitemoss,  for 
it  goes  over  a  lower  part  of  the  hill,  instead  of  keeping 
the  valley;  so  that  forty  years  hence  we  may  have 
*•  Radical  Reform  "  in  the  shape  of  a  road  quite  in 
the  valley;  and  then  come  railroads  by  steam,  and 
then  perhaps  railroads  by  air  or  some  other  farther 
improvement.     And   -quis   linis?"    That   we   cannot 

•  I*layful  names  which  he  gave  to  two  roads  between  Ilydal  and 
'/.asm  ere, 

F  2 


<  s 


.T'-f:  ■" 


..-.5i-;5«.^*^;5 


r'-^^'^m^^i 


^V-f: 


^  -   -  1- 


"•1  r 


Ts«i 


^ 


63   TRAVELLING  JOURNALS  IN  SOUTH  OF  FRANCE. 

tell ;  and  we  liave  j^eat  need,  I  know,  to  strengthen 
our  moral  legs,  seeing  that  our  physical  legs  are 
getting  such  great  furtherances  to  their  speed.  But 
still  do  not  check  either*,  but  advance  both;  for 
though  one  may  advance  without  the  other,  yet  one 
cannot  he  checked  without  the  other;  because  to 
check  the  development  of  any  of  our  powers,  ^t/»a/x«if, 
is  in  itself  sinful. 

Caluiii,  Au(;u.<it  7, 18:10. 

7.  France. — Of  the  mere  fi\ce  of  the  country,  I 
have  spoken  enough  already,  and  I  am  quite  sure  that 
English  travellers  do  it  great  injustice.  I  see  a  great 
deal  of  travelling,  particularly  in  the  south,  a  great 
number  of  diligences,  and  a  very  active  steam  naviga- 
tion on  the  Iihone,  both  up  and  down.  The  new 
suspension  bridges  thrown  over  the  Rhone,  at  almost 
every  town  from  Lyons  to  Avignon,  are  a  certain 
evidence  of  a  stir  amongst  the  people ;  and  there  is 
also  a  railway  from  Lvons  to  St.  Etienne,  and  from 
Eoanne  to  Lyons.  I  see  crosses  and  crucifixes, — some 
new, — set  up  by  the  roadside,,  and  treated  with  no 
disrespect;  but  I  think  I  see,  also,  a  remarkable 
distinctness  here  between  the  nation  and  the  Church, 
as  if  it  by  no  means  followed  that  a  Frenchman  was  to 
be  a  Christian.     1    saw  this   morning  "  Ecole  Chre- 

•  The  delight  with  which,  from  such  associati( : ihcsc,  he  re- 
garded even  the  unsightliness  of  the  great  Birmingham  Hallway, 
when  it  was  brought  to  Rugby,  was  very  characteristic  of  him. — "  I 
rejoice  to  see  it,"  he  said,  as  lie  stood  on  one  of  its  arches,  and 
watched  the  train  pass  on  through  the  distant  hedgerows, — "  I  re- 
joice to  see  it,  and  think  that  feudality  is  gone  for  exer.  It  is  so 
great  a  blessing  to  think  that  any  one  evil  is  really  extinct,  Bunyan 
thought  that  the  giant  Pojjc  was  disabled  for  ever, — and  how  greatly 
was  he  mistaken." 


TRAVELLING  JOURNALS  IN  SOUTH  OF  FRANCE,   69 

tienne"  stuck  up   in  Aire,  which  implied   much  too 
cleai'ly  that  there  might  be  '*  Ecoles  nou  Chretiennes." 
And  this  I  have  seen  in  French  literature:  religious 
men  are  spoken  of  as  acting  according  to  the  principles 
of  Christianity,  just  as  if  those  principles  were  some- 
thing  peculiar,    and    by   no   means   acknowledged   by 
Frenchmen  in  general.     I  see  again  a  state  of  property 
which  does  ajipear  to  me  an  incalculable  blessing.     I 
see  a  fusion  of  ranks,  which  may  be  an  equal  blessing. 
— I  do  not  know  whether  it  is.     Well-dressed  men 
appear    talking   familiarly   with    persons   of  what   we 
should  call  decidedly  the  lower  classes  *.     Now,  if  this 
shows  that  the  poorer  man  is  raised  in  mind  to  the 
level   of  the  richer,  it  is  a  blessing  of  the  highest 
order ;  if  it  shows  that  the  richer  man  has  fallen  to  the 
level  of  the  poorer,  then  I  am  not  so  sure  that  it  is  a 
blessing.     But  I  have  no  right  to  say  that  it  is  so, 
because  I  do  not  know  it ;  only  we  see  few  here  whose 
looks  and  manners  are  what  we  should  call  those  of  a 
thorough  gentleman ;  and  though  I  do  not  believe  that 
I  am  an  aristocrat,  yet  I  should  grieve  beyond  measure 
if  our  standard  either  of  moiuls  or  of  manners  were  to 
be    lowered.      Unquestionably   to    English    eyes    the 
women  look  far  more  ladylike  than  the  men  look  like 

•  "  If  there  is  any  one  truth  after  the  highest  for  which  I  would 
die  at  the  stake,"  was  one  of  his  short  emphatic  sayings,  "  it  would 
be  Democracy  without  Jacobinism."  Believing  that  the  natural 
progress  of  society  was  towanls  greater  equality,  he  had  also  great 
confidence  in  the  natural  instincts  implanted  in  man-— reverence  for 
nuthority,  and  resistance  to  change— as  checks  on  what  he  con- 
sidered a  Jacobinical  disregard  of  existing  ties  or  ancient  institu- 
tions. "  What  an  instructive  work,"  he  said,  "  might  be  written  on 
God's  safeguards  against  Democracy,  as  distinguished  from  man's 

''  niards  against  it." 


r&^ 


•il^?-.-.  .=■« .-- 


!■ 


70      TRAVEU.ING  JOURNALS   IN   SOUTH  OF   FRANCE. 

gentlemen :   I   speak   only   of   the   look,   for  a  hasty 
traveller  cannot  judge  farther.    We  have,  I  think,  what 
France  has  not; -as  she  has  in  her  large  population  of 
proprietors,  what  we  have  not.     But  it  seems  to  me 
that  acconling  to  the  ordinary  laws  of  Gods  Provi- 
dence, the  state  of  France   is  more  hopeful  fur  the 
future,  that  society  in  its  main  points  is  more  stable, 
and  that  time  being  thus  gained,  religious  and  moral 
truth  will  or  may  work  their  way,  whenever  it  shall 
please  God  to  prepare  His  instruments  for  the  work. 
Whereas,  in   England,   what  moral  power,   without  a 
direct  and  manifest  interposition  of  God,  can  overcome 
the  physical  difficulties  of  our  state  of  population  and 
property  ?    And  if  Old  England  perish  as  Old  France 
peribhcd  in  the  first  Revolution,  let  no  man  hope  to 
see,  even  at  an  equal  cost  of  immediate  crime  and 
misery,  a  New  England  spring  up  in  its  room,  such  as 
New  France  now  is.     If  OKI   England  perish,  there 
perishes,  not  a  mere  accursed  thing,  such  as  was  the 
system  of  Old  France,  which  had  died  inwardly  to  all 
good  long  before  the  axe  was  laid  to  its  root: — but 
there  perishes  the  most  active  and  noble  life  which  the 
world  has  ever  yet  seen, — which  is  made  up  whole- 
somely of  pist  and  present,  so  that  the  centuries  of 
English  History  are  truly  "bound   each  to  each  by 
natural  piety."     Now  to  destroy  so  great  a  life  must  be 
an  utterly  unblessed  thing,  from  which  there  can  come 
only  evil.     And  would  England,  with  her  dense  manu- 
facturing and  labouring  population, — with  her  narrow 
limits, — and  her  intense  activity,  ever  be  brought  into 
a  state   like   that  of   agricultural    France,   with    her 
peasant  proprietors?     No  tongue  or  thought  of  man 


TRAVELLING   JOURNALS   IN    FRANCE   AND   ITALY.      71 

could  imagine  the  evil  of  a  destruction  of  our  present 
system  in  England ;  wherefore  may  God  give  us  His 
spirit  of  wisdom  and  power  and  goodness,  to  mould  it 
into  as  happy  accordance  with  the  future  as  it  is  already 
with  the  past :  to  teach  the  life  that  is  in  it  to  commu- 
nicate itself  to  the  dead  elements  around  it,  for  unless 
they  are  taken  into  the  living  body,  and  partake  of  its 
life,  they  will  inevitably  make  it  partake  of  their  death. 
And  now  may  God  grant  that  I  may  be  restored  safely 
to  that  England  to-morrow,  and  that  I  may  labour  to 
promote  her  good.  *'  0,  pray  for  the  peace  of  Jeru- 
salem— peace  be  within  thy  walls,  and  plenteousness 
within  thy  palaces." 

Adieu,  dearest  wife,  and  may  God  bless  us  both  now 
and  ever! 


X.  Tour*  to  Rome  and  Naples  through  France 

AND  Italy,  1840. 

June  22,  1840. 

1.  Orleans. — Here  we  are  at  last  in  a  place  which  I 
have  so  long  wanted  to  see.  It  stands  quite  in  a  flat  on 
the  north  or  right  bank  of  the  Loire.  One  great  street 
under  two  names,  divided  by  the  Square  or  Place  of 
^lartray,  from  north  to  south, — from  the  barrier  on  the 
Paris  road  to  the  river.  We  have  now  been  out  to  see 
the  town,  or  at  least  the  cathedral,  and  the  bridge  over 
the  Loire.     The  former   is   by  far  the  finest  Gothic 

•  Tho  pa&sagcs  marked  as  quotations  have  been  inserted  from  the 
memoranda  of  conversations  kept  by  a  former  pupil,  who  accom- 
panied him  and  his  wife  on  the  greater  part  of  this  tour.  Most  of 
lliese  being,  like  the  Journal,  connected  more  or  less  with  the  locali- 
ties of  the  journey,  would  not,  it  was  thought,  be  out  of  place  here. 


.■„-^r»;'* 


72 


TRAVELLING  JOURNALS  IN  FRANCE. 


TRAVELLING  JOURNALS  IN  FRANCE. 


78 


building  of  the  seventeenth  century  which  I  ever  saw ; 
the  end  of  the  choir  is  truly  magiiiliceut,  and  so  is  the 
exterior,  and  its  size  is  great.  We  then  drove  to  the 
bridge,  a  vast  fabric  over  this  wide  river, — the  river 
disfigured  by  sand-banks,  as  at  Cosne,  but  still  always 
fine,  and  many  vessels  lying  under  the  quays  for  the 
river  navigation. 

•*  The  siege  of  Orleans  is  one  of  the  turning  points 
in  the  history  of  nations.  Had  the  English  dominion 
in  France  been  established,  no  man  can  tell  what  might 
have  beeti  the  consequence  to  England,  which  would 
probably  have  become  an  appendage  to  France.  So 
little  does  the  prosperity  of  a  people  depend  upon 
success  in  war,  that  two  of  the  greatest  defeats  we  ever 
had,  have  been  two  of  our  greatest  blessings,  Orleans 
and  Bannockburn.  It  is  curious,  too,  that  in  Edward 
II. 's  reign,  the  victory  over  the  Irish  proved  our  curse, 
as  our  defeat  by  the  Scots  turned  out  a  blessing.  Had 
the  Irish  remained  independent,  they  might  afterwards 
have  been  united  to  us,  as  Scotland  was;  and  bad 
Scotland  been  reduced  to  subjection,  it  would  have  been 
another  curse  to  us  like  Ireland."* 

Jane  34,  ISM. 

2 Now   for  Bourges  a  little  more.     In 

the  crypt  is  a  Calvary,  and  figures  as  large  as  life 
representing  the  burning  of  our  Lord.  The  woman, 
who  showed  us  the  crypt,  had  her  little  girl  with  her; 
and  she  lifted  up  the  child,  about  three  years  old,  to 
kiss  the  feet  of  our  Lord.     Is  this  idolatry?    Nay, 

•  "  Bannockburn,"  he  used  to  say,  "  ought  to  be  celebrated  by 
Englisluuei  njitiouivl  festival,  and  Athunroo  himeutod  as  a 

national  judguieut.'* 


verily,  it  may  be  so,  but  ft  need  not  be,  and  assuredly 
is  in  itself  right  and  natural.  I  confess  I  rather  envied 
the  child.  It  is  idolatry  to  talk  about  Holy  Church 
and  Holy  Fathers — bowing  down  to  fallible  and  sinful 
men; — not  to  bend  knee,  lip,  and  heart,  to  every 
thought  ='  and  every  image  of  Him  our  manifested  God. 

June  25,  1»I0. 

Left  Moutlu90u,  and  were  well  out  of  the  town,  C.14, 
June  J25th.  A  lovely  morning  in  this  lovely  country. 
ruv  ^t  iri^^wfiwv  Ti  lo-O)};  rciflt^f  TK  l<rrl  ra?  i^lv  a»a|i/§»^a$  xal 
Tou{  ^nwvoc^  ^o^ovo-iv  il^niaif  xal  to  avro  f^ovrai;  X^^f^^* 
xvattov  ^t^UfAfAkfovi  Taj  ^i  xvptet^  VTTf^fAiyiQfiq  rt  xa)  Ki/xAo- 

TIf !»J,  TIJV   TTCL^U^O^int  Ui   (IvtTv,   >iiyU  ^t  to  VTFip  T«?  Oy>^V(;  V1VIC~ 

^X^'f  ?;>^o>Ta^-  tv^vT0L7vi>,  We  are  now  turning  off  east- 
wards, to  leave  this  lovely  valley  of  the  Cher,  stealing  up 
one  of  its  feeders  towards  Neris.  On  our  left  is  the 
outer  wall  of  the  main  valley,  bare  schistous  hills,  with 
very  slight  ravines  ;  on  our  right  is  an  vttu^hcc,  the  bound- 
ary of  our  immediate  valley.  We  passed  a  lovely  scene 
just  now;  the  bottom  of  a  small  combe,  with  fine  oaks 
above  on  each  slope,  and  haymaking,  or  ratlier  mowing, 
going  on  busily  between.  The  combo  was  so  narrow 
that  the  trees  on  each  side  seemed  to  overshadow  all  of 
it.  The  geology  I  do  not  make  out:  I  see  granitic 
pebbles,  but  what  the  hills  themselves  are,  I  do  not 
know.  I  think  that  it  is  the  grit  of  the  coal,  and  the 
Neris  waters,  I  suppose,  are  like  Harrowgate.  We 
have  passed  through  Neris  without  stopj)iug,  on  our 
way  to  Montaign,  and  are  now  on  a  table-land  between 

•  See  this  more  fully  developed  in  Kssay  on  Interpretation  of 
Scripture,  Sena.  vol.  ii.,  and  not©  to  Serm.  II.,  in  vol.  iii. 


Tf  *i.S*?^-'i: 


,J^!fX|V«j 


„*     /*   *  "^  *  V 


^«^ 


S.V 


<4        TRAVELLING  JOURNALS  IN  FRANCE. 

the  valley  of  the  Cher,  and  that  of  his  feeder,  the 
Aumiincc,  which  we  crossed  yesterday  at  Meaulac.  Tlien 
from  the  same  ridge  we  looked  down  upon  both  streams, 
but  now  there  is  a  table-land  of  some  miles  between 
them.  It  is  a  country  of  hedges  and  hedge-row  trees, 
with  scattered  hou^^es,  very  quiet  and  peaceful,  but,  of 
course,  being  table -land,  not  beautiful.  But  as  we 
entered  Neris  up  a  long  hill  overhanging  the  feeder  of 
the  Cher,  or  looking  down  the  valley  upon  Montlu^on, 
and  the  wide  landscape  beyond,  it  was  most  lieautiful. 
Now  we  are  descending  into  the  valley  of  the  Auniance, 
or  rather  of  his  feeders ;  a  perfectly  English  country, 
like  that  between  Coleshill  and  Litchfield;  woods, 
hedges,  hedgerow  trees,  corn,  pasture,  and  a  valley  not 
wider  than  in  England,  which  makes  the  resemblance. 
Arrived  at  Montaign,  9.55.  Left  it  at  10.'2.  We  are 
now  descending  to  Bonble,  a  feeder  of  tlie  Allier.  The 
country  most  beautiful,  not  mountainous,  but  of  the 
best  sort  of  hill  and  valley.  The  woods  are  fine,  and 
the  scattered  oaks  in  the  coQibes  and  everywhere  are 
most  pictiu*esque.  Here  we  cross  the  Bonble  at  S. 
Elv7  to  ascend  through  a  forest  of  fine  trees  on  the 
other  hill  side.  We  have  just  caught  a  view^  of  the 
Puy  do  Dome,  ^font  d'Or,  Ac,  and  are  going  to  descend 
into  the  valley  of  the  Sioule  at  Menat. — We  have 
crossed  the  Sioule  and  are  ascending :  but  I  was  not  in 
the  least  prepared  for  the  sort  of  scenery.  The  descent 
was  through  a  narrow  rocky  valley,  after  having  swept 
round  the  sides  of  the  hills  in  aji  extremely  good  line. 
The  hills  here  are  just  like  those  on  the  Rhine,  the 
same  slate,  but  much  finer,  because  here  the  valleys 
being  narrow,  the  height  is  somewhat  in  proportion. 


il 


TiLWELLTNG   JOURNALS   IN    FRANCE. 


75 


They  have  made  a  beautiful  new  bridge  of  two  high 
arches  over  the  Sioule,  and  are  everywhere  improvin'T 
the  line  of  road,  another  proof  of  the  progress  which 
Franco  is  making,  certainly,  in  physical  prosperity — I 
hope  and  believe,  also,  in  moral.  This  is  Auvergne, 
the  kernel,  as  it  were,  of  France;  but  the  language 
hitherto  is  quite  intelligible  to  me,  and  the  costume 
does  not  seem  to  have  changed  from  that  of  Bour- 
boiuiais.  Oxen  are  used  for  draught,  and  on  these 
hills  tlMjre  is  of  course  not  much  corn,  and  no  vines, 
but  there  is  a  good  deal  of  beech  wood  on  the  higher 
points,  at  least  on  the  side  by  which  we  descended. 
Right  before  us  now,  on  an  opposite  hill,  is  a  ruined 
castle,  one  of  those  dens  of  Cacus  happily  laid  open  to 
the  day  and  untenanted  ;  for  no  Jacobinism  was  ever  so 
detestable  as  that  of  the  feudal  aristocracy,  where 
ever)'  man  derived  his  dominion  from  his  own  power, 
and  used  it  for  his  own  purposes.  I  dislike  Jacobinical 
liberty,  how  much  more,  then,  Jacobinical  oppression. 

June  25. 

3.  "  It  is  absurd  to  extol  one  age  at  the  expense  of 
another,  since  each  has  its  good*  and  its  bad.     There 

•  lie  used  frequently  to  dwell  on  this  essentially  mixed  character 
of  all  human  things;  as,  for  example,  in  his  principle  of  the  applica- 
tion of  Prophecy  to  human  events  or  persons:  so,  too,  his  charac- 
teristic dislike  of  Milton's  representation  of  S-atan.  "By  giving  a 
human  likeness,  and  representing  him  as  a  bad  man,  you  necessarily 
get  some  images  of  what  is  good  as  well  as  of  what  is  bad;  for  no 
living  man  is  entirely  evil.  Even  banditti  have  some  generous  quali- 
ties; whereas  the  representation  of  the  Devil  should  be  purely  and 
entirely  evil,  without  a  tinge  of  good,  as  that  of  God  should  Ix;  purely 
and  entirely  good,  without  a  tinge  of  evil ;  and  you  can  no  more  get 
the  one  than  the  other  from  anything  human.    With  the  heathen  it 


"IT 

■'J 

^-5 


^i,  -,^,'Zii  ■^'£j^a^i§|£^f^i^ji!^fc'^ 


'<J^ 


"^^^fv^9•'JB»^ 


TvjrfTT" 


ta?s»^'^»i 


S-^-'v" 


!y«*«'. 


76 


TRAVELLING   JOURNALS   IN   ITALY. 


TRAVELLING   JOURNALS   IN   ITALY. 


was  greater  genius  in  ancient  times,  but  art  and  science 
come  late.  But  in  one  respect  it  is  to  be  feared  we 
have  degenerated — what  Tacitus  so  beautifully  ex- 
presses, after  telling  a  story  of  a  man  who,  in  the  civil 
war  in  Vespasian's  time,  had  killed  his  own  brother, 
and  received  a  reward  for  it ;  and  then  relates  that  the 
same  thing  happened  before  in  the  civil  war  of  Sylla 
and  Marius,  and  the  man  when  he  found  it  out  killed 
himself  from  remorse ;  and  then  he  adds,  '  tanto  major 
apud  antiquos  ut  virtutibus  gloria,  ita  Jlagitiis  pani- 
tenfia  erat.'  The  deep  remorse  for  crime  is  less  in 
advanced  civilization.  There  is  more  of  sympathy  with 
suffering  of  all  kinds,  but  less  abhorrence  of  what  is 
admitted  to  be  crime." 

Jane,  ISM. 

4.  Mediterranean.  —  On  board  the  Sardinian 
steamer,  the  Janus,  in  Marseilles  Harbour,  July  2nd, 
atid  this  moment  in  movement,  by  my  watch,  at  1.50. 
The  day  is  delicious, — not  a  cloud  in  the  sky,  the  sea 
bluer  than  blue,  the  gentlest  air  fanning  us,  and  the 
steamer  not  crowded.    There  is  no  lady  on  board  besides 

M ,  and  but  few  gentlemen.    The  mountain  barrier 

of  this  coast  is  always  fine,  and  in  many  places  the  hills 
come  down  steep,  and  bare,  and  dry,  to  the  sea; — but 
often,  as  now,  there  is  an  interval  of  plain  between  them 

was  diflcrent ;  their  gods  were  tliemsolvea  made  up  of  good  and  of 
evil,  and  so  might  well  he  mixed  up  with  himiun  associations.  The 
hoofs,  and  the  honis,  and  the  tail,  were  all  useful  in  this  way,  as 
giNing  you  an  image  of  something  altogether  disgusting.  And  so 
Mephistophilcs,  in  Faust,  and  the  other  contemj  '  hateful 

character  of  the  Little  Master  in  Sintram,  are  fur  Uiorc  true  than 
the  Paradise  Lost." 


77 


and  the  water,  covered  with  olives  and  scattered  houses, 
a  gorgeous  belt  round  the  waist  of  the  rough  Torso-like 
mountains.    It  is  quite  a  new  scene  in  my  life  to  witness 
the  almost  more  than  earthly  beauty  of  this  navigation. 
Now  we  are  passing  just  between  the  islands  Javos  and 
Risa  and  the  land :  the  sea  a  perfect  lake  :  the  islands 
of  fantastic  rocky  forms,  and  the  main  land  of  the  same 
character.     We 'have  now  passed  Cassis,  and  are  just 
come  to  Cap  I'Aigle  r—in  a  short  time  we  shall  open 
upon  La  Ciotat, — a  small  town  between  Marseilles  and 
Toulon.    We  are,  as  usual,  close  under  the  cliffs,  which 
present  their  steep  and  scarred  sides  to  the  sea,  bare 
for  the  most  part,  but  here  and  there  with  some  pines 
upon  them.     Now  they  are  preparing  dinner;  not  in 
lall  unsavoury  cabin,  but  out  on  the  deck  under 
awnings ;— and   the  table-cloth  is  of  the  whitest,  and 
the  plates  are  of  our  own  blue  and  white  china,  with 
the  three  men  and  the  bridge ;  and  the  >vine  is  in  nice 
English  decanters,  and  there  is  the  nicest  of  desserts 
being  spread,  which  it  seems  is  to  precede  the  dinner 
instead  of  following  it. — Dinner  is  over,  and  a  rirrbt 
goodly  dinner  it  has  been  :    we  sat  down  on  deck  a 
party  of  ten,  two  Englishmen  besides  ourselves,  both 
agreeable  enough  in  their  way.     And  now  we  are  just 
off  Toulon,  seeing  those  beautiful  mountains  behind 
the  town,  and  the  masts  of  the  shipping  rising  over 
the  low  ground  which  forms  the  entrance  into  the  road, 
and  the  green  hills  which  lie  towards  Hyeres,  while  the 
islands  lie  off  as  a  low  land,  which  I  am  afraid  we  are 
going  to  leave  to  our  left,  instead  of  passing  between 
them  and  the  land.     Well,  we  are  just  coming  to  the 
point  from  which  we  shall  see  Hyeres:  for  we  are  not 


78 


TRAVELUNO   JOURNALS   IN   ITALY. 


IS" 


going  outside  the  islands,  as  I  think,  but  between  them 
and  a  projecting  point  of  the  coast,  connected  only  by 
a  low  strip  of  sand  or  shingle  with  the  main  land.  And 
now  the  sun  is  almost  setting,  and  from  him  to  us  there 
is  one  golden  line  through  tlie  water,  and  the  mountains, 
sea,  and  sky,  are  all  putting  on  a  softer  and  a  deeper 
tint.  It  is  solemnly  beautiful  to  see  the  sea  under  the 
vessel,  just  where  the  foam  caused  by  the  paddles  melts 
away  into  the  mass  of  blue :  the  restless  but  yet  beauti- 
ful finite  lost  in  the  peaceful  and  more  beautiful  infinite. 
The  liistorical  interest  of  this  coast  and  sea  almost  sink 
in  their  natural  beauties;  together,  they  give  to  this 
scene  an  interest  not  to  be  surpassed.  And  now,  good 
night,  my  dailing — and  all  of  you — ^you  know  how  soon 
night  comes  here  after  the  sun  is  down  ;  and  even  now 
his  orb  is  touching  the  mountains.  May  God's  blessing 
be  with  you  and  with  us,  through  Jesus  Clirist. 


Genoa,  July  4,  IHW. 

5.  We  are  now  farther  from  England  than  at  any 

time  in  our  former  tour,  dearest ,  but  our  faces  are 

still  set  onwards,  and  I  believe  that  the  more  I  dislike 
Italy,  or  rather  the  Italians,  so  the  more  eagerly  do  I 
desire  to  see  those  parts  of  it  which  remind  me  only  of 
past  times,  and  allow  me  to  forget  the  present.  Cer- 
tainly I  do  greatly  prefer  Fmnce  to  Italy,  Frenchmen 
to  Italians;  for  a  lying  people,  which  these  emphati- 
cally are,  stink  in  one  s  moral  nose  all  day  long.  Good 
and  sensible  men,  no  doubt,  there  are  here  in  abund- 
ance ;  but  no  nation  presents  so  bad  a  side  to  a  traveller 
as  this.  For, — whilst  we  do  not  see  its  domestic  life 
and  its  private  piety  and  charity,— the  infinite  vileness 


'!is^^^iii^>^i^A^S^i^^.'&?* 


Wwipfmf^^^Wi^WV^m^ifiWy- 


f^r*"^ 


'  *  ^r^^^*^'f5^p*5^^ 


TRAVELLING   JOURNALS   IN   ITALY.  TO 

of  its  public  officers,  the  pettiness  of  the  Governments, 
the  gross  ignorance  and  the  utter  falsehood  of  those 
who  must  come  in  your  way,  are  a  continual  annoyance. 
When  you  see  a  soldier  here,  you  feel  no  confidence 
that  he  can  fight ;  when  you  see  a  so-called  man  of 
letters,  you  are  not  sure  that  he  has  more  knowledge 
than  a  baby;  when  you  see  a  priest,  he  may  be  an 
idolater  or  an  unbeliever;  when  you  see  a  judge  or 
a  public  functionary,  justice  and  integrity  may  be  utter 
strangers  to  his  vocabulary.  It  is  this  which  makes  a 
nation  vile  when  profession,  whether  Godward  or  man- 
ward,  is  no  security  for  performance.  Now  in  England 
we  know  that  every  soldier  will  fight,  and  ever)^  public 
functionary  will  be  honest.  In  France  and  in  Pmssia 
we  know  the  same ;  and  with  us,  though  many  of  our 
clergy  may  be  idolaters,  yet  we  feel  sure  that  none  is  an 
unbehever. 


July  5,  ISIO. 

^-  P*SA But  0  the  solemn  and  characteristic 

beauty  of  that  cathedral,  with  its  simple  semicircular 
arches  of  the  twelfth  century,  its  double  aisles,  and  its 
splendour  of  marbles  and  decoration  of  a  later  date, 
especially  on  the  ceiling.  Then  we  went  to  the  Bap- 
tistery, and  lastly  to  the  Campo  Santo,— a  most  perfect 
cloister,  the  windows  looking  towards  the  burying-grouud 
within,  being  of  the  most  delicate  work.  But  that 
burying-grouud  itself  is  the  most  striking  thing  of  all ; 
it  is  the  earth  of  the  Holy  City ;  for  when  the  Pisan 
Crusaders  were  in  Palestine,  they  thought  no  spoil  which 
they  could  bring  home  was  so  precious  as  so  many  feet 
m  depth  of  the  holy  soil,  as  a  burying-place  fur  them  and 


80 


TRAVELLING  JOURNALS  IN  ITALY. 


TRAVELLING  JOURNALS  IN  ITALY. 


81 


their  children.  This  was  not  like  Anson  watching  the 
Pacific  from  Tinian  to  Acapulco,  in  order  to  catch  the 
Spanisli  treasure  ship. 

Now,  however,  this  noble  burying-ground  is  disused, 
and  only  a  few  favoured  persons  are  laid  there  by  the 
especial  permission  of  the  Gmnd  Duke.  The  wild  vine 
grows  freely  out  of  the  ground,  and  clothes  it  better,  to 
my  judgment,  than  four  cypresses,  two  at  each  end, 
which  have  been  lately  planted.  The  Campo  Santo  is 
now  desecrated  by  being  made  a  museum.  The  famous 
Ccnotaphium  Pisanum  is  here,  a  noble  monument,  but 
Julia's  sons  and  Augustus's  grandsons  have  no  business 
on  the  spot  which  the  Pisans  filled  with  the  holy  earth 
of  Jenisalem.  The  town  itself  is  very  striking;  the 
large  flat  pavement  filling  up  the  whole  street  as  at 
Florence,  and  the  <r7la%  on  each  side,  or  else  good  and 
clean  houses,  varied  with  some  of  illustrious  antiquity. 
And  after  all  we  were  not  searched  at  the  gate  of  Pisa: 
it  seems  it  has  been  lately  forbidden  by  the  Government 

— a  great  humanity.     And  now,  dearest  ,  good 

night,  and  God  bless  you  and  all  our  darlings,  and  wish 
us  a  prosperous  journey  of  three  days  to  the  great  city 
of  cities ;  for  Naples,  I  confess,  does  in  comparison 
appear  to  mo  to  be  viler  than  vile,  a  city  without  one 
noble  association  in  ancient  days  or  modem. 

July  C,  1840. 

7.  Approach  to  Rome. — And  now  we  are  on  the 
great  road  from  Florence  to  Rome.  Rome  once  again, 
but  now  how  much  dearer,  and  to  me  more  interesting 
than  when  I  saw  it  last,  and  in  how  much  dearer  com- 
pany.   Yet  how  sad  will  it  be  not  to  find  Bunsen  there, 


and  to  feel  that  Niebuhr  is  gone.     I  note  here  in  every 
group  of  people  whom  I  meet  many  with  light,  very  light 
eyes.     Is  this  the  German  blood  of  the  middle  age  con- 
quests and  wars,  or  are  the  mass  of  the  present  Italians 
descended  from  the  Roman  slaves— Liguriaus,  Kelts, 
Gennans,  and  from  all  other  nations  ?    However,  of  the 
fact  of  the  many  light  eyes  in  Tuscany  I  am  sure.    The 
countiy  is  beautiful,  and  we  are  going  up  amidst  oak 
woods  chiefly.    The  hedges  here  are  brilliant ;  the  Sweet 
William  pinks  of  the  deepest  colour;  the  broom,  the 
clematis,  and  the  gum-cistus  Salvianus,  that  beautiful 
flower  which  I  have  never  seen  wild  since  18J27.     Here 
is  the  beginning  of  the  mountain  scenery  of  Central 
Italy,  only  a  very  faint  specimen  of  it ;  but  yet  bearing 
its  character— the  narrow  valley,  the  road  in  a  terrace 
above  it,  the  village  of  Staggia  with  its  old  walls  and 
castle  tower,  the  vines,  figs,  and  olives  over  all  the 
country,  and  the  luxuriant  covering  of  all  the  cliffs  and 
roadside  banks,  the  wild  fig  and  wild  vine.     Arrived  at 
Castiglioncellol.45.   Left  it  1.53.   Ascending  gradually 
towards    Sienna,   which   is   at   the   top   of  the  whole 
country,  dividing  the  streams  which  feed  the  Arno  from 
those  that  feed  the  Ombroue.    The  road  here  is  a  defile 
through  oak  woods,  very  beautiful;  and  after  having 
got  up  through  the  wood  we  are  in  a  high  plain,  but 
^-ith  higher  hills  around  us,  and  a  great  deal  of  wood. 
Here  the  country  looks  parched,  for  the  soil  is  shallow. 
Arrived  at  the  gates  of  Sienna  3.16.     I  hope  that  I 
shall  not  have  much  time  to  write ;  nor  have  I,  for  the 
carriage  is  at  the  door.     Left  Sienna  4.50.     We  did 
not  stop  long,  as  is  evident,  but  we  dined,  for  two  pauls 
each,  about  one  franc,  and  we  saw  the  cathedral,  a 

6 


s  .^ 


...!-•    \ 


<^fl»^3siK:^s| 


8*2 


TRAVELLING   JOURNALS   IN    ITALY. 


TRAVELLING   JOURNALS  IS  ITALY. 


83 


thing  very  proper  to  do,  and  moreover  the  cathedral  is 
fine  and  very  rich,  and  has  some  pictures ;  amongst  the 
rest,  a  set  of  pictures  of  the  events  of  the  life  of  my 
old  friend  iEneas  Sylvius,  designed,  it  is  said,  by 
Piaphaelle  in  his  early  youth.  There  were  also  some 
fine  illuminations  of  some  ancient  music  books,  and 
some  very  well  executed  Mosaics.  Yet  I  should  be  a 
false  man  if  I  professed  to  feel  much  pleasure  in  such 
things.  What  I  did  rejoice  in  was  the  view  which  we 
had,  far  and  wide,  from  the  heights  of  Sienna,  a 
boundless  range  of  Apennines.  And  coming  out  of 
Sienna,  we  have  just  had  a  shower  of  Cicada  drop  from 
the  trees  upon  the  carriage,  who  hopped  off  when 
anything  threatened  them  behind  with  an  agility  truly 
mar\'ellous.  And  now  we  are  descending  from  our 
height,  amidst  a  vast  extent  of  cornfields  just  cleared, 
and  tlie  view  is  not  unlike  that  from  Pain  a  Bouchain, 
only  some  of  the  Apennines  before  us  are  too  fine  for 
the  hills  about  Roanne.  Let  me  notice  now  several 
things  to  the  credit  of  the  Italians  hereabouts.  First 
of  all,  the  excessive  goodness  of  the  Albergo  del' 
Ussaro  at  Pisa,  where  the  master,  who  speaks  English, 
clianged  my  French  money  into  Tuscan  and  Roman,  a 
convenience  to  avoid  tho  endless  disputes  about  the 
exact  value  of  the  foreign  coinage.  Next,  at  Castig- 
lioncello,  the  stage  before  Sienna,  there  is  "Terzo 
Cavallo,**  and  justly,  seeing  that  the  whole  stage  is  up 
hill.  I  said  to  the  ostler,  *'  You  have  a  right,  I  believe, 
here,  to  a  third  horse  ;"  to  which  he  said  "Yes."  But 
presently  he  added,  **  You  are  only  two  persons,  and  I 
shall  send  you  with  two  ; "  and  this  he  did  without  any 
compromise  of  paying  for  two  horses  and  a  half;  but 


we  had  two,  and  we  paid  only  for  two.  And  finally, 
the  Sienna  dinner,  at  four  pauls,  at  the  Aquila  Nera! 
was  worthy  of  all  commendation. 

As  I  have  occasion  to  complain  often  of  the  Italians, 
it  is  pleasant  to  be  able  to  make   these  exceptions! 
Sienna   stands   like   Langres,  and   as   we   have   been 
descending,  two  little  streams  have  risen  in  the  hill 
sides  right  and  left,  and  now  they  meet  and  form  a 
green  valley,  into  which  we  are  just  descended,  and 
find  again  the  hedgerows,  the  houses,  and  the  vines. 
Arrived  at  Moutaroni  5.57.     Left  it  6.4.     And  still,  1 
beheve,  we  are  going  to  have  another  stage  of  descent 
to   Buon   Convento.      Alas!  an  adventure   has   sadly 
delayed  us,  for  though  the  stage  be  mostly  descent  or 
level  ground,  yet  there  was  one  sharp  little  hill  soon 
after  we  left  Montaroni,  in  the  middle  of  which  our 
horses   absolutely   would    not    go   on,   wherefore    the 
carriage  would  go  back,  and  soon  got  fast  in  the  ditch. 

^^ got  out  very  safely,  and  we  got  the  carriage  out 

of  the  ditch,  but  it  was  turned  round  in  the  doing  it, 
and  the  road  was  so  narrow  that  we  could  not  turn  it 
right  again  for  a  long  time.  Meanwhile,  a  passing  travel- 
ler kindly  carried  a  message  back  to  the  post  for  a  Terzo, 
and  after  a  while  Terzo  and  a  boy  came  to  our  aid,  and 
brought  us  up  the  hill  valiantly;  and  Terzo  is  now 
trotting  on,  a  bright  example  to  his  companions. 

July  7.  Left  Buon  Convento  5.16.     Again  a  lovely 

morning,   dearest  ,   and   certainly  if   man    does 

not  glorify  God  in  this  country,  yet,  as  we  have  just 
Ueu  reading*,  "the  very  stones  do  indeed  ciy  out." 

•  I  e.  in  the  daily  lessons  of  Scripture,  which,  with  the  Te  Deum, 
they  used  to  read  every  moriiiiig  ou  starting. 

O   2 


(T    -^ 


fa 


'ix 


w&f 

!»'*■: 


■X.Ti 


#■' 


-Sl"..' 


84 


TRAVELLING   JOURNALS   IN   ITALY. 


The  country  is  not  easy  to  describe,  for  the  frameworlv 
of  the  Apennines  here  is  \ery  complicated,  the  ribs 
of  the  main  chain  being  very  twisted,  and  throwing  out 
other  smaller  ribs  which  are  no  less  so,  so  that  the 
valleys  are  infinitely  winding;  but,  generally,  we 
were  on  the  Ombrone  at  Buon  Convento,  and  at 
Torrinicri  shall  be  on  one  of  his  feeders,  which  runs 
so  as  to  form  a  very  acute  angle  with  him  at  his 
confluence.  Between  the  two  the  ground  is  tlirown 
about  in  swells  and  falls  indescribable.  The  country  is 
generally  open  com  land,  just  cleared,  but  varied  with 
patches;  of  copse,  of  heath,  and  of  vines  and  other 
trees  in  the  valleys,  and  the  farm-houses  perched  about 
in  the  summit  of  the  hills  with  their  odd  little  com 
stacks,  some  scattered  all  over  the  fields,  and  others 
making  a  belt  round  the  houses.  II  Cavallo  Inglese  at 
Buon  Convento  was  a  decent  place  as  to  beds,  but 
rogui>h,  as  the  small  places  always  are,  in  their 
charges.  The  Terzo  did  well,  and  brought  us  well 
to  Buon  Convento  after  all.  At  this  moment,  Monte 
Alcino,  on  a  high  mountain  on  the  right,  is  looking 
splendidly  under  the  morning  sun,  with  its  three 
churches,  its  castle,  and  the  mass  of  trees  beneath 
it.  Arrived  at  Torrinieri  0.15.  Left  it  C.*21,  with 
four  horses,  but  only  three  are  to  be  paid  for, 
which  is  all  quite  right;  the  fourth  is  for  their  own 
pleasure.  We  have  just  crossed  the  Orcia,  and  these 
great  ascents,  which  require  the  Terzo,  are  but 
shoulders  dividing  one  feeder  of  the  Ombrone  from 
another,  the  Orcia  from  the  Tressa.  We  have  had 
one  enormous  ascent,  and  a  descent  by  zig  and  zag 
to  a  little  feeder,  and  now  we  are  up  again  to  go  down 


TRAVELLING  JOURNALS   IN   ITALY. 


85 


to  another.  On  tliis  inteimediate  height,  risinfr  out 
of  a  forest  of  olives,  with  its  old  wall,  its  church, 
with  a  fine   Norman   doorway,  and   its   castle   tower, 

stands  S.  Quirico,  on  no  river,  my  M ,  but  a  place 

beginning  with  a  Q.,  when  we  *'play  at  Geographical." 
We  are  just  under   its  walls,  with  a   mass   of    ilex 
sloping  down  from  the  foot  of  the  walls  to  the  road ; 
the    machicolations    of    the   walls   are   very   sU'iking. 
We  are  descending  towards  the  Tressa,  a  vast  view 
before  us,  bounded   by  the  mountains  of  Radicofani. 
The  hills  which  we  are  descending  are  thickly  wooded 
on  our  right,  with  most   picturesque  towns  on   their 
summits,  while  the  deep   furrows  of  this  blue  marl, 
though  rock  would  doubtless  be   finer,   are  yet  very 
striking  in   all   the  gorges  and  combes.     Arrived  at 
La  Poderina,   that   most  striking  view,    7.45.      Left 
it  7.53.     We  have  crossed  the  Tressa,  a  rocky  stream 
in  a   deep   dell   between   noble    mountains,   on   each 
side  crowned  with   the   most   picturesque   towns  and 
castles.      The    postilion    calls    the    river    the   Orcia, 
and  I  think  he  is  right;  the  town  is  Rocca  d'Orcia; 
it  is  the  scene  I  had  noticed  in  my  former  journal, 
and   indeed   it  is   not   easy   to   be   forgotten;    but   I 
had  fancied   the  spot   had    been   at   Buon   Convento. 
This  stage  is  the  only  one  as  yet  that  could  be  called  at 
all  dull ;  much  of  it  is  through  a  low  plain,  without 
trees  or  vines,  and  therefore  it  is  now  bare ;  in  this 
plain,   however,    there    stands   one   of    the    finest   of 
oaks    by   the    road-side,    a    lonely   and    goodly   tree, 
which  has  the  plain   to  itself.     They  are  also  doing 
a  very  good  work,   in   making  a  line  of  road,  quite 
m   the   plain,  to  avoid   the  many  ups  and   downs  of 


i,*^  "^c  *ft)lSP%  ^  vs^SPv! 


J^^M^,)^Z 


86 


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TRAVELUNG   JOURNALS   IN   ITALY. 


87 


the  present  road,  in  crossing  the  valleys  of  the 
small  streams  which  run  down  into  the  main  valley. 
But  although  the  immediate  neighbourhood  of  the 
road  is  dull,  yet  how  glorious  are  the  mountains 
all  around!  Arrived  at  Riccorsi  0.10.  Left  it  9.18. 
I  was  speaking  of  the  mountains,  and  I  am  quite 
sure  that  a  scene  so  picturesque  as  that  which  we 
have  just  above  Riccorsi,  in  this  stage,  which  people 
who  read  and  sleep  through  the  country  call  dull, 
can  very  rarely  be  rivalled  in  England.  The  moun- 
tains are  very  high,  and  their  sides  and  banks  and 
furrowing  combes,  nobly  spread  out  before  you,  covered 
mostly  with  oak  forests,  but  the  forest  toward  the 
plain  thinning  off  into  single  trees  till  it  gives  place 
to  the  olives  and  vines;  and  near  the  summit  there 
is  a  great  scar  or  cliff,  on  which,  or  to  which,  sit 
or  stick  as  they  can  the  houses  of  Campiglia,  with 
its  picturesque  towers  as  usual.  And  now  we  are 
really  going  up  to  the  head  of  the  country,  to  the 
fantastic  rocks  of  Radicofani,  which  turn  the  waters 
to  the  Ombrone  and  Tiber  and  are  visible  from 
the   Ciminian  hills*.     Again    the   road    itself    is   in 

•  "  The  Ciminian  hills,  for  we  should  scarcely  call  them  mountains, 
are  the  ridge  which  divides  the  valley  of  the  Tiber  from  the  basin  of 
the  lake  of  Bolsena,  and  from  the  valley  which  runs  from  the  foot 
of  the  lake  down  to  the  sea.  Where  the  road  from  Viterbo  to  Rome 
crosses  them  they  are  still  covered  with  copsewood,  and  the  small 
crater  of  the  lake  of  Vico,  which  lies  high  up  in  their  bosom,  is  sur- 
rounded by  the  remains  of  the  old  forest.  In  the  fifth  century  of 
Rome,  the  woods  were  far  more  extensive;  and  the  hilb  having  now 
become  the  boundary  between  the  Roman  and  Etruscan  nations, 
were  perhaps  studiously  kept  in  their  wild  state,  in  order  to  prevent 
collisions  between  the  borderers  of  both  frontiers.  They  are  a  re- 
markable point,  because,  as  they  run  up  to  a  crest  with  no  extent  of 


the  bare  hill  side,  with  masses  of  rock  here  and 
there.  But  across  the  torrent,  the  mountain  sides 
are  clothed  more  or  less  with  trees,  in  some  places 
thickly,  and  before  us  the  hill  side  is  yellow  with 
the  still  standing  corn.  The  torrent  beds,  however, 
are  here  for  the  most  part  quite  dry.  Those  creatures 
which  dropped  on  our  carriage  yesterday,  are  here 
again  in  great  numbers;  they  call  them  Cavaletti 
or  Grigli;  they  are  a  species  of  Cicada,  but  not  those 
which  croak  on  the  trees,  and  which,  I  believe,  are 
never  seen  on  the  ground.  We  have  just  crowned  the 
summit,  and  see  before  us  the  country  towards  Rome, 
and  the  streams  going  to  the.  Tiber.  The  valley  of 
the  Paglia  for  miles  lies  befoi-e  us.  Alas !  to  think  of 
that  unhappy  papal  Government,  and  of  the  degraded 
people  subject  to  it.  Arrived  at  Radicofani  10.45. 
There  is  a  good  inn  here,  so  we  have  stopped  to  get 

something  to  eat,  and  to  give  M some  rest,  which 

she  greatly  needs;  and  from  here  our  way  is  in 
a  manner  all  down  hill.  Glorious  indeed  is  the 
view  all  around  us,  and  there  is  also  a  nice  garden 
under  the  house,  where  I  see  an  oleander  in  bloom, 
although  our  height  above  the  Mediterranean  must 
be  very  great,  and  up  here  the  corn  is  not  ripe.  The 
air  is  pure  and  cool  enough,  as  you  may  suppose, 
but  there  is  no  chill  in  it,  and  the  flies  are  taking 
liberties  with   my  face,  which  are   disagreeable.      It 

table-land  on  their  summits,  they  command  a  wide  view  on  either 
side,  reaching  far  away  to  the  south-east  over  the  valley  of  the  Tiber, 
even  to  the  Alban  hills,  whilst  on  the  north  and  west  tliey  look 
down  on  the  plain  of  Viterbo;  and  the  lake  of  Bolsena  is  distinctly 
visible,  shut  in  at  the  furthest  distance  by  the  wild  mountams  of 
Badicofani."— J^w^c/ry  of  Home,  vol.  ii.  p.  2j1. 


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TiUVELLING  JOURNALS   IX   ITALY. 


89 


is  very  strauge  to  see  so  nice-looking  an  inn  at 
this  wild  place,  but  the  movement  of  the  world  does 
wonders,  and  it  improves  even  the  mountain  of  Radi- 
cofani.  I  have  exposed  myself  to  the  attacks  of  those 
who  cannot  bear  to  hear  of  the  movement  of  the 
nineteenth  century  improving  anything;  however,  I 
was  thinking  only  of  physical  improvement  in  roads 
and  inns,  which  is  a  matter  not  to  be  disputed.  Bat 
in  truth  the  improvement  does  go  deeper  than  this, 
and  though  the  work  is  not  all  of  God,  (and  did 
even  Christianity  itself  except  the  intermeddling 
hand  of  Antichrist?)  yet  in  itself  it  is  of  God,  and 
its  fruits  are  accordingly  good  in  the  main,  though 
mixed  with  evil  always,  and  though  the  evil  sometimes 
be  predominant;  sometimes  it  may  be  alone  to  be 
found ;  just  as  in  this  long  descent  which  I  see  before 
me  to  Ponte  Centino  there  are  portions  of  absolutely 
steep  up-hill.  It  is  a  lying  spirit  undoubtedly  tliat 
says  **look  backwards." 

Viterbo,  July  8th,    1840.— On   May   0th,    18^7,  I 

entered  Rome  last,  dearest ;  and  it  gives  me  a 

thrill  to  look  out  from  my  window  on  the  very  Ciminian 
hills,  and  to  know  that  one  stage  will  bring  us  to  the 
top  of  them.  But  the  Caffe  bids  me  stop.  Left 
Viterbo  5.80.  A  clever  piccolo  has  aided  our  carriage 
well  by  leading  Terzo  round  some  very  sharp  turnings 
in  the  narrow  streets.  And  now  we  are  out  amidst 
gardens  and  olives,  witli  the  Ciminian  hills  all  green 
with  their  copsewood  right  before  us.  We  are  now 
amidst  the  copsewood ;  many  single  chestnuts  and  oalis 
are  still  standing;  the  tufts  of  gum-cistus  Salvianus 
by  the  read-side  mingled  with   the   broom  are  most 


beautiful.  Long  white  lines  of  cloud  lie  in  the  plains, 
so  that  the  Sabine  mountains  seemed  to  rise  exactly 
from  the  sea.  And  now  a  wooded  point  rises  above  us 
of  a  very  fine  shape,  a  sort  of  spur  from  the  main  ridge 
like  Swirl  Edge  from  Helvellyn.  Here  the  oaks  and 
chestnuts  are  fine.  Thick  wood  on  both  sides  of  the 
road.  Again  we  descend  gradually  towards  Moiiterossi, 
Soracte,  and  the  mountains  behind  it  finer  than  can  be 
told.  We  may  now  say  that  we  arc  within  what  was 
the  Roman  frontier  in  the  middle  of  the  fourth  century, 
U.C.,  for  we  have  just  crossed  the  little  stream  which 
tlows  by  both  Sutrium  and  Nepete,  and  they  were  long 
the  frontier  colonies  towards  Etruria.  Here  we  join 
the  Perugia  and  Ancona  road,  and  after  the  junction 
our  ways  seem  much  improved.  And  now  we  are 
ascending  a  long  hill  into  Monterossi,  which  seems  to 
stand  on  a  sort  of  shoulder  running  down  from  the 
hills  of  the  Lake  Sabatiuus  towards  the  Campagiia.  I 
suppose  that  this  country  must  have  been  the  ttj^ioixi? 
of  Veii.  The  twenty-sixth  milestone  from  Rome  stands 
just  at  the  foot  of  the  hill  going  up  into  Monterossi. 
Here  they  are  threshing  iheir  corn  vigorously  out  in 
the  sun ;  I  should  have  thought  that  it  must  be  dry 
enough  anywhere.  Arrived  at  Monterossi  9.30,  at 
the  twenty-fifth  milestone,  9.44.  Here  begins  the 
Campagna,  and  I  am  glad  to  find  that  my  description 
of  it  in  Vol.  I.  is  quite  correct.  Here  are  the  long 
slopes  and  the  sluggish  streams,  such  as  1  have 
described  them,  and  the  mountain  wall  almost  grander 
than  my  recollection  of  it.  And,  as  our  common 
broom  was  tufting  all  the  slopes  and  banks  when  I  was 
here  last  in  April  and  May,  so  now,  in  July,  we  have 


'J"  -a* 


■     -  :t'*-^^'^fii;TTiniTpnTirf'''tiiWiiiiii 


•  ;/.'  •-'  **  *^V^IH 


^'^'mw 


90 


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TRAVELLING   JOURNALS   IN   ITALY. 


91 


our  garden  broom  no  less  beautiful.     I  observe  ibat 
since  we   have  joined   the   Perugia   road,   everything 
seems  in  better  style,  botli  roads  and  posting,  because 
that  is  the  great  road  to  Bologna  and  Ancona,  and  the 
Sienna  road  leads  within  the  Roman  States  to  no  place 
of  consequence.     Here  is  one  of  the  lonely  Osterie  of 
the  Campagna,  but  now  smartened  up  into  the  Hotel 
des  Sept  Veines,  Sette  Vene,  strange  to  behold.     Here 
we  found  our  Neapolitan  friend,  who,  not  liking  his 
horses,  Iiad  sent  them  back  to  Monterossi,  and  was 
waiting  for  others.    The  postillions  would  have  changed 
them  for  ours,  deeming  our  necks,  I  suppose,  of  no 
consequence;  but  our  Neapolitan  friend  most   kindly 
advised  me  not  to  allow  them  to  change;  a  piece  of 
disinterested,  or  rather  self-denying  consideration,  for 
which  I  felt  much  obliged  to  him.     Strange  it  is  to 
look  at  these  upland  slopes,  so  fresh,  so  airy,  so  open, 
and  to  conceive  that  malaria  can  be  here.     They  have 
been  planting  trees  here  by  the  road-side,  acacias  and 
elms  and  shumacks,  a  nice  thing  to  do,  and  perhaps 
also  really  useful,  as  trees  might  possibly  lessen  tlie 
malaria.     We  see  the  men  who  come  to  reap  the  crops 
in  the  Campagna  sleeping  under  the  shade  by  the  road- 
side; we  aie  going  up  the  outer  rim  of  the  Baccajio 
crater ;  the  road  is  a  •'  via  cava,"  and  the  beauty  of  the 
brooms  and  wild  figs  is  exquisite.     Now  we  are  in  the 
crater,  quite  round,  with  a  level  bottom  about  one  mile 
and  a  half  in  diameter.     Arrived  at  Baccano  10.35. 
Left  it   10.45.     And  now  we  are  going  up  the  inner 
rim  of  the  crater,  and  it  is  an  odd  place  to  look  back 
on.     I  put  up  Catstabber,  take  my  pen,  and  look  with 
all  my  eyes,  for  here  is  the  top  of  the  rim,  and  Rome 


is  before  us,  though  as  yet  I  see  it  not.  We  have  just 
seen  it,  11.5.  S.  Peter's  within  the  horizon  line,  the 
Mons  Albanus,  the  portal  into  the  Hemican  country, 
Praeneste,  Tiber,  and  the  valley  of  the  Anio  towards 
Sublaquem.  Of  earthly  sights  xfWoy  avtl — Athens  and 
Jerusalem  are  the  other  two — the  three  people  of 
God's  election,  two  for  things  temporal,  and  one  for 
things  eternal.  Yet  even  in  the  things  eternal  they 
were  allowed  to  minister.  Greek  cultivation  and  Roman 
polity  prepared  men  for  Christianity,  as  Mahometanism  * 
ciui  bear  witness,  for  the  East,  when  it  abandoned 
Greece  and  Rome,  could  only  reproduce  Judaism. 
Mahometanism,  si.x  hundred  years  after  Christ,  justifies 
the  wisdom  of  God  in  Judaism;  proving  that  the 
eastern  man  could  bear  nothing  more  perfect.  Here  I 
see  perfectly  the  shoulder  of  land  which  joins  the 
Alban  Hills  to  the  mountains  by  Praeneste,  and  through 
the  gap  over  them  I  see  the  mountains  of  the  Volscians. 
A  long  ridge  lies  before  us,  between  us  and  La  Storta, 
but,  if  we  turned  to  the  left  before  we  ascended  it,  we 
could  get  down  to  the  Tiber  without  a  hill.  And  here 
I  look  upon  Veii,  (Isola  Farnese,)  and  see  distinctly  the 
little  clitT  above  the  stream  which  was  made  available 
for  the  old  walls.  We  are  descending  to  the  stream  at 
Osteria  del  Fosso,  which  was  one  of  those  that  flowed 
under  the  walls  of  Veii.  And  here  at  Osteria  del 
Fosso  we  have  the  little  cliff'y  banks  which  were  so 
often  used  here  for  the  fortifications  of  the  ancient 
towns,  and  such  as  I  have  just  seen  in  Veii  itself.     Wo 

•  "  The  unworthy  idea  of  Paradise"  in  the  Koran,  he  used  to  sa}-, 
"justifies  the  way  of  God  in  not  revealing  a  future  state  earlier, 
fiinco  man  in  early  ages  was  not  fit  for  it." 


>..-^ 


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t-'' 


m 


are  going  up  the  ridge  from  Osteria  del  Fosso.  and 
have  just  passed  the  eleventh  milestone.  These  bare 
slopes  overgrown  with  thistles  and  fern  are  very 
solemn,  while  the  bright  broom  cheering  the  road 
banks  might  be  an  image  of  God  s  grace  in  the  wilder- 
ness, and  a  type  that  it  most  cheers  those  who  keep  to 
the  straight  road  of  duty.  Past  the  tentli  milestone, 
and  here  apparently  with  no  descent  to  reach  to,  is  La 
Storta.  Arrived  at  La  Storta  1-^.4.  Left  it  I'^.U. 
Here  is  a  Campagna  scene,  on  the  left  a  lonely  Osteria, 
and  on  the  right  one  of  the  lonely  square  towers  of 
this  district,  old  refuges  for  men  and  cattle  in  the 
middle  ages.  We  descend  gradually ;  the  sides  of  the 
slopes  both  right  and  left  (for  we  are  on  a  ridge)  are 
prettily  clothed  with  copse  wood.  I  have  just  seen  the 
Naples  road  beyond  Kome,  the  back  of  the  Monte 
Mario,  the  towers  of  the  churches  at  the  Porta  del 
Popolo.  And  now,  just  past  the  fourth  milestone, 
S.  Peter's  has  opened  from  behind  Mimte  Mario,  and 
we  go  down  by  zig  and  zag  towards  the  level  of  the 
Tiber.  It  brings  us  down  into  a  pretty  green  valley 
watered  by  the  Acqua  Traversa,  where,  for  the  first 
time,  we  have  a  few  vines  on  the  slope  above.  The 
Acqua  Traverea  joins  the  Tiber  above  the  Milviau 
bridge,  so  we  cross  him  and  go  up  out  of  his  little 
valley  on  the  right.  And  here  we  find  the  first  houses 
which  seem  like  the  approach  to  a  city.  There  are  the 
cypresses  on  the  Monte  ^lario.  and  here  is  the  Tiber 
and  the  Milvian  bridge.  We  are  crossing  the  Tiber 
now,  and  now  we  are  in  the  Age  a  Ro.>linus.  Garden 
walls  and  ordinary  suburb  houses  line  the  road  on  both 
sides,  but  the  Coll  is  llortulorum  rises  prettily  on  the 


left  with  its  little  cliffs,  its  cypresses,  copsewood,  and 
broom.  The  Portii  del  Popolo  is  in  sight,  and  then 
Passport  and  Dogano  must  be  minded,  so  here  I  stop 
for  the  present,  l.iJ(K 

Rome,  July  9.     Again  this  date,  my  dearest , 

one  of  the  most  solemn  and  interesting  to  me  that  my 
hand  can  ever  write,  and  now  even  more  interestiuft 
than  when  1  saw  it  hist. 

8.  Chbisttan  Martyus. — The  Pantheon  I  had  never 
seen  before,  and  I  admire  it  greatly;  its  vastnoss, 
and  the  opening  at  tlie  top  which  admitted  the  view 
uf  the  cloudless  sky,  both  struck  me  particularly. 
Of  the  works  of  art  at  the  Vatican,  I  ought  not  to 
speak,  but  I  was  glad  to  find  that  I  could  under- 
stand the  Apollo  better  than  when  I  last  saw  it. 
S.  Stefano  Rotondo  on  the  Crolian,  so  called  from  its 
shape,  consists  of  two  rows  of  concentric  pillars,  and 
contains  the  old  Mosaic  of  our  Lord,  of  which  1  spoke 
in  my  former  journal.  It  exhibits  also,  in  a  series  of 
pictures  all  round  the  chun^h,  tlie  martyrdoms  of  the 
Christians  in  the  so-called  Persecutions,  with  a  general 
picture  of  the  most  eminent  martyrs  since  the  triumph 
of  Christianity.  No  doubt  many  of  the  particular 
stories  thus  painted,  will  bear  no  critical  e.xamination ; 
it  is  likely  enough,  too,  that  Gibbon  has  truly  accused 
the  general  statements  of  e.xaggeration.  But  this  is  a 
thankless  labour,  such  as  Lingard  and  others  have  un- 
dortakon  with  respect  to  the  St.  Bartholomew  massacre, 
and  the  Irish  massacre  of  104^.  Divide  the  sum  total 
of  re|>orted  martyrs  by  twenty — by  fifty  if  you  will — 
but  after  all  you  have  a  number  of  persons  of  all  ages 
and  se.xes  suffering  cruel  torments  and  death  for  con- 


^-.1.-: 


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'^^ 


science  sake  and  for  Christ's,  and  by  their  sutTerinCTs 
manifestly,  with  Gods  ^ing,  ensuring  the  triumph 
of  Christ's  Gospel.  Neither  do  I  think  that  we  con- 
sider the  excellence  of  this  martyr  spirit  half  enough. 
I  do  not  think  that  pleasure  is  a  sin*:  the  Stoics  of 
old,  and  the  ascetic  Christians  since,  who  have  said  so, 
(see  the  answers  of  that  excellent  man  Pope  Gregory 
the  Great,  to  Augustine's  questions,  as  given  at  length 
by  Bede,)  have,  in  saying  so,  overstepped  the  simplicity 
and  the  wisdom  of  Christian  truth.  But,  though 
pleasure  is  not  a  sin,  yet  surely  the  contemplation  of 
suffering  for  Christ's  sake  is  a  thing  most  needful  for 
us  in  our  days,  from  whom  in  our  daily  life  suffering 
seems  so  far  removed.  ADd,  as  God's  grace  enabled 
rich  and  delicate  persons,  women,  and  even  children,  to 
endure  all  extremities  of  pain  and  reproach  in  times 
past,  so  there  is  the  same  grace  no  less  mighty  now ; 
and  if  we  do  not  close  ourselves  against  it,  it  might  in 
us  be  no  less  glorified  in  a  time  of  trial.  And  that  such 
time  of  trial  will  come,  my  children,  in  your  days,  if 
not  in  mine,  I  do  believe  fully,  both  from  the  teaching 
of  man's  wisdom,  and  of  God's.  And,  therefore,  pic- 
tures of  martyrdoms  are,  I  think,  very  wholesome — not 
to  be  sneered  at,  nor  yet  to  be  looked  on  as  a  mere  ex- 
citement—but a  sober  reminder  to  us  of  what  Satan 
can  do  to  hurt,  and  what  Christ's  grace  can  enable  the 
weakest  of  His  people  to  bear.     Neither  should  we 

•  He  Imd,  however,  a  prcat  respect  for  the  later  Stoics :— "  It  b 
common  to  ridicule  them,"  he  said ;  "  but  their  triumph  over  bodily 
pain  was  one  of  the  noblest  oflbrts  after  good  ever  made  by  man, 
without  revelation.    He  that  said  to  pain,  '  T:  t  no  onl  to  me, 

so  long  as  I  can  endure  thee,'— it  was  given  to  him  from  God.** 


forget  those  who,  by  their  sufferings,  were  more  than 
conquerors,  not  for  themselves  only,  but  for  us,  in 
securing  to  us  the  safe  and  triumphant  existence  of 
Christ's  blessed  faith — in  securing  to  us  the  pos- 
sibility— nay,  the  actual  enjoyment,  had  it  not  been 
for  the  Antichrist  of  the  Priesthood — of  Christ's  holy 
and  glorious  UxXno-ia,  the  congregation  and  common- 
weal ih  of  Christ's  people. 

July  12,  IMO. 

9.  Appii  Forum And  I  see  Sezza  on  its 

mountain  seat;  but  here  is  a  more  sacred  spot,  Appii 
Forum,  where  St.  Paul  met  his  friends,  when,  having 
landed  at  Puteoli,  he  went  on  by  the  Appian  road  to 
Rome.  Here  the  ancient  and  the  present  roads  are 
the  same, — here,  then,  the  Apostle  Paul,  with  Luke 
and  with  Timothy,  travelled  along,  a  prisoner,  under  a 
centurion  guard,  to  carry  his  appeal  to  Caesar.  How 
much  resulted  from  that  journey — the  manifestation 
of  Christ's  name  1»  o?iw  vu  -Tr^onTuf^,  the  four  precious 
Epistles  ad  Ephesios,  ad  Philippenses,  ad  Colossenses, 
ad  Philemona;  and  on  the  other  hand,  owing  to  his 
long  absence,  the  growth  of  Judaism,  that  is,  of  priest- 
craft, in  the  eastern  churches,  never,  alas !  to  be  wholly 
put  down. 


10.  MoLA  Di  Gaeta. 


M- 


July  la,  1840. 

says  tliat  she 


never  saw  so  beautiful  a  spot  as  Mola  di  Gaeta.  I 
should  say  so  too,  in  suo  geuere;  but  Fox  How  and 
Chiavenna  are  so  different,  that  I  cannot  compare 
them ;  so  again  are  Rome  from  S.  Pietro  in  Montorio, 


]^  V 


'T'W' 


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— Oxford,  from  the  pretty  field,  or  from  St.  John's  Gar- 
(leiis, — London,  from  Westminster  Bridge,  and  Paris, 
from  the  Quays.  But  Mola  is  one  of  those  spots  which 
are  of  a  heauty  not  to  be  forgotten  Nvhile  one  lives. 

**  At  I^Iola  is  what  is  called  Cicero's  Villa.  There  is 
no  greater  folly  than  to  attempt  to  connect  particular 
spots  in  this  uncertain  way  with  great  names ;  and  no 
one,  who  represents  to  his  own  mind  the  succession  of 
events  and  ages  which  have  passed,  will  attempt  to  do 
it  upon  conjecture,  the  chances  being  thousands  to  one 
against  correctness.  There  can  be  no  traditions,  from 
the  long  period  when  such  things  were  forgotten  and 
uncared  for ;  and  what  seems  to  be  tradition,  in  fact, 
originates  in  what  antiquarians  have  told  the  people. 
People  do  not  enough  consider  the  long  periods  of  the 
Bonmn  empire  after  Augustus's  time,— the  century  of 
the  -icatest  activity  under  Trajan,  and  the  Antonines, 
when  the  Republic  and  the  Augustan  age  were  con- 
sidered as  ancient  times, — then  Severus  and  his  time, 
— then  Diocletian  and  Theodosius. — when  the  Roman 
laws  were  in  full  vigour.*' 

July  14,  ituo. 

11.  Naples. — While  we  are  waiting  for  dinner,  my 

dearest ,  I  will  write  two  or  three  lines  of  journal. 

Here  we  actually  are,  looking  out  upon  what  hut  pre- 
sents images,  which,  with  a  very  little  play  of  ftmcy, 
might  all  be  shaped  into  a  fearful  drama  of  Pleasure, 
Sin,  and  Death.  The  Pleasure  is  everywhere,— nowhere 
is  nature  more  lovely,  or  man,  as  far  as  appears,  more 
enjoying ;  the  Sin  is  in  the  sty  of  Capriae.  in  the  disso- 
luteness of  Baiffi  and  Pompeii, — in  the  black  treacher)' 


which,  in  this  ill-omened  country,  stained  the  fame 
even  of  Nelson, — in  the  unmatchable  horroi*s  of  the 
^Miite  Jacobins  of  1700, — in  the  general  absence  of 
any  recollections  of  piety,  virtue,  or  wisdom— for  '*  he 
that  is  not  with  me  is  against  me."  And  the  Death 
stands  manifest  in  his  awful ness  in  Vesuvius, — in  his 
loathsomeness  at  the  abominable  Carapo  Santo.  Far 
be  it  from  me,  or  from  my  friends,  to  live  or  to  sojourn 
long  in  such  a  place ;  the  very  contradictory,  as  it 
seems  to  me,  of  the  hill  Diihculty,  and  of  the  House 
Beautiful,  and  of  the  Land  of  Beulah.  But,  behold, 
we  are  again  in  voiture,  going  along  the  edge  of  the 
sea  in  the  Port  of  Naples,  and  going  out  to  Salerno. 
Clouds  are  on  the  mountains  which  form  the  south-east 
side  of  the  bay  ;  but  Vesuvius  is  clear,  and  quite  quiet, 
—not  a  wreath  of  smoke  ascends  from  him.  Since  I 
wTote  this,  in  the  last  five  minutes,  there  is  a  faint  curl 
of  smoke  visible.  Striking  it  is  to  observe  the  thousand 
white  houses  round  his  base,  and  the  green  of  copse- 
wood  which  runs  half  way  up  him,  and  up  to  the  very 
summit  of  his  neighbour,  the  Monte  Somma, — and 
then  to  look  at  the  desolate  hlackness  of  his  own 
cone. 

July  15,  1S40. 

12.  Pompeii. — We  have  just  left  Pompeii,  after 
having  spent  two  houi-s  in  walking  over  the  ruins. 
Now  what  has  struck  me  most  in  this  extraordinary 
scene,  speaking  historically?  That  is,  what  knowledge 
does  one  gain  from  seeing  an  ancient  town,  destroyed 
in  the  first  century  of  the  Christian  era,  thus  laid  open 
before  us?  I  do  not  think  that  there  is  much.  I 
obser>'ed    the  streets  crossing  one  another   at  right 

H 


r-i 


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angles :  I  observed  the  walls  of  the  town  just  keeping 
the  crown  of  the  hill,  and  the  suburbs  and  the  tombs 
falling  away  directly  from  the  gates :  I  obser%ed  the 
shops  in  front  of  the  houses, — the  streets  narrow,  the 
rooms  in  the  houses  very  small ;  the  dining  room  in 
one  of  the  best  was  twenty  feet  by  eighteen  nearly. 
The  Forum  was  large  for  the  size  of  the  town ;  and 
the  temples  and  public  buildings  occupied  a  space 
proportionably  greater  than  with  us.  I  observed  the 
Impluvium,  forming  a  small  space  in  the  midst  of  the 
Atrium.  And  I  think,  farther,  that  Pompeii  is  just  a 
thintr  for  pictures  to  represent  adequately;  I  could 
understand  it  from  Cell's  book,  but  no  book  can  give 
me  the  impressions  or  the  knowledge  which  I  gain  from 
every  look  at  the  natural  landscape.  Then,  poetically, 
Pompeii  is  to  me,  as  I  always  thought  it  would  be,  no 
more  than  Pompeii ;  that  is,  it  is  a  place  utterly  un- 
poetical.  An  Osco-Romun  town,  with  some  touches 
of  Greek  corruption,— a  town  of  the  eighth  century  of 
Home,  marked  by  no  single  noble  recollection,  nor 
having — like  the  polygonal  walls  of  Ciolauo — the  marks 
of  a  remote  antiquity,  and  a  pure  state  of  society. 
There  is  only  the  same  sort  of  interest  with  which  one 
would  see  the  ruins  of  Sodom  and  Gomorrah,  but 
indeed  there  is  less.  One  is  not  authorized  to  tiscribe 
80  solemn  a  character  to  the  destruction  of  Pompeii ;  it 
is  not  a  peculiar  monument  of  God  s  judgments,  it  is 
the  mummy  of  a  man  of  no  worth  or  dignity, — solemn, 
no  doubt,  as  everything  is  which  brings  life  and  death 
into  such  close  connexion,  but  with  no  proper  and 
peculiar  solemnity,  like  places  rich  in  their  own  proper 
interest,  or  sharing    in    the    general    interest    of  a 


remote  antiquity,  or  an  uncorrupted  state  of  society. 
The  towns  of  the  Ciolano  are  like  tlie  tomb  of  a  child, — 
Pompeii  is  like  that  of  Lord  Chestei'lield. 

13.  Geography  of  Samnium. 

From  the  Hi»lory  or  Rouic,  vol.  ii.  pp.  IQl— KM* 

"  Nearly  due  north  of  Naples,  there  stands  out  from 
the  central  line  of  the  Apennines,  like  one  of  the 
towers  of  an  old  castle  from  the  lower  and  more 
retiring  line  of  the  ordinary  wall,  a  huge  mass  of 
mountains,  known  at  present  by  the  name  of  the 
Matese.  On  more  than  three-fourths  of  its  circum- 
ference it  is  bounded  by  the  Volturno  and  its  tributary 
streams,  the  Galore  and  the  Tamaro,  which  send  their 
waters  into  the  lower  or  Tyrrhenian  Sea :  but  on  its 
northern  side  its  springs  and  torrents  run  down  into 
the  Bifemo,  and  so  make  their  way  to  the  Adriatic.  A 
very  narrow  isthmus  or  shoulder,  high  enough  to  form 
the  watershed  between  the  two  seas,  connects  the 
Matese  at  its  N.W,  and  N.E.  extremities  witli  the 
main  Apennine  line,  and  thus  prevents  it  from  being 
altogether  insulated. 

''  The  circumference  of  the  Matese  as  above  described 
is  between  seventy  and  eighty  miles.  Its  character 
liears  some  resemblance  to  that  of  the  district  of 
Craven  in  Yorkshire,  or  more  closely  to  that  of  the 
Jura.  It  is  a  vast  mass  of  limestone,  rising  from  its 
ba.se  abruptly  in  the  huge  wall-like  cliffs  or  scars,  so 
I'haracteristic  of  limestone  mountiiins,  to  tlie  height  of 
about  8000  feet;  and  within  this  gigantic  enclosure 
presenting  a  great  variety  of  surface,  sloping  inwards 

H  2 


it*:-" 


iiMi(':i*''-^i^ 


'V"-,-'  fr^'^^""  "'""i*?^  ?*•  •r".M"Tx'\^ 


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from  the  edj^e  of  the  cliffs  into  deep  valleys,  ancl  then 
rising  again  in  the  highest  points  of  the  centre  of  the 
range,  and  especially  in  the  Monte  Miletto,  which  is 
its  loftiest  summit,  to  an  elevation  computed  at  GOOD 
feet.  Its  upland  valleys  offer,  like  those  of  the  Jura,  a 
wide  extent  of  pasture,  and  endless  forests  of  magnifi- 
cent heech-wood ;  it  is  rich  in  springs,  gushing  out  of 
the  ground  with  a  full  hurst  of  water,  and  suddenly 
disappearing  again  into  some  of  the  numerous  caverns 
in  which  such  limestone  rocks  ahound.  In  this  manner 
the  waters  of  a  small  lake  in  the  heart  of  the  mountain 
have  no  visible  outlet ;  hut  the  people  of  the  country 
say  that  they  hreak  out  at  the  foot  of  a  deep  cliff  or 
cove,  about  two  or  three  miles  distant,  and  form  the 
full  stream  of  the  Torano. 

**  On  the  highest  points  of  the  ^fatese  the  snow  lies 
till  late  in  the  summer;  and  such  is  their  elevation, 
that  the  view  from  them  extends  across  the  whole 
breadth  of  Italy  from  sea  to  sea.  No  heat  of  the 
summer  scorches  the  perpetual  freshness  of  these 
mountain  pastures ;  and  during  the  hottest  months  the 
cattle  from  the  surrounding  country  are  driven  up 
thither  to  feed. 

•*  This  singular  mountain  with  its  subject  valleys  was 
the  heart  of  the  country  of  the  Samnites." 

July  IB.  1840. 

14.  The  Apennines. — ^The  panorama  of  mountains, 
and  the  infinite  variety  of  light  and  shade  caused  by  a 
very  bright  sun  and  very  black  clouds,  cannot  be  de- 
scribed. Aquila  is  seen  rising  on  its  hills  on  the  left 
bank  of  the  Atemus,  about  nine  miles  off.     Behold 


something  of  a  section  of  the  plain  and  valley,  if  I 

am  make  them  intelligible .     By  the  way  I  saw 

the  Tratturo  delle  Pecore,  or  Cattle  path,  *•  Callis," 
which  Keppel  Craven  mentions,  in  our  upland  plain, 
a  broad  marked  track  on  the  turf,  which  ran  close  by 
the  road  for  a  space,  and  then  passed  it.  We  are  now 
down  fairly  in  the  valley,  at  the  l'25th  mile,  and  the 
Gran  Sasso  dltalia,  or  Monto  Como,  the  highest  of 
the  Apennines,  IIODO  feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea, 
spreads  out  his  huge  mass  just  behind  the  near  hills  of 

this  valley .     I  liave  endeavoured  to  represent  his 

outline,  and  his  enormous  ribs  and  deep  combes,  but  I 
must  not  forget  his  verdure;  fur  as  the  sun  shines 
upon  him,  the  turf  upon  his  swells  and  ridge  looks 
green  as  Loughrigg ;  the  peak  looks  as  I  have  so  often 
seen  Fairfield  when  a  slight  snow  has  fallen  :  the  snow 
lies  where  the  steepness  of  the  cliffs  will  let  it  lie.  We 
are  in  a  fresh  valley  amidst  streams  of  running  water : 
but  there  is  malaria  here.  And  now,  0.50,  we  are  jubt 
beginning  the  ascent  of  the  hill  on  which  Aquila  itself 
is  built.  Nothing  can  be  fresher  than  everything 
around  us,  the  vines  on  the  hills,  the  deep  green  of  the 
poplars  and  willows  that  fringe  the  streams,  and  the 
bright  grass  of  a  little  patch  of  meadow.  Then  tlio 
mountains  rise  behind  on  all  sides,  their  tops  still 
gleaming  with  the  sun  which  is  set  to  us  in  the  valley, 
(1-^Oth  mile,  within  a  quarter  of  a  mile  of  the  entitmce 
into  Aquila,)  while  the  mountains  to  the  X.W.  are 
steeped  in  one  of  the  richest  glows  of  crimson  that  I 
ever  saw.  Passports  at  Aquila  gate,  or  rather  at  the 
gate  of  the  old  urtji/JoXo; ;  but  Aquila  has  shrunk,  and  a 
long  avenue  through  corn-fields  leads  from  the  gate  of 


S  -i 


^il*  *>  •_"  ""d"'    -T  1  -s* 


V  -i- 


.^■-■i  -1  1 . 


^>  -i  - 


W^t;  ^' 


10-2 


TRAVELLING    JOURNALS    IX    ITALY. 


TRAVELLING   JOURNALS    IN    ITALY. 


103 


wlmt  wns  the  town  to  the  heginniiig  of  the  part  in- 
habited now. 

July  10.  Left  Aquila  G.^,  passing  under  the  citadel 
and  with  the  Gran  Sasso  facing  us  in  all  his  brightness. 
— I  did  not  see  his  main  summit  last  night  after  all, 
for  it  was  behind,  and  the  clouds  covered  it ;  so  I  have 
put  it  in  slightly  this  moniing.  We  have  got  to-day, 
not  a  Cheval  but  an  Homme  de  Renfort,  to  help  the 
carriage  through  the  difficulties  of  the  passof  Antro- 
doco.  And  now,  dearest,  it  is  Sunday  morning,  and  a 
brighter  day  never  shone :  the  clouds  and  cold  have 
vanished,  and  summer  seems  returned.  May  God  bless 
you  all,  my  darlings,  and  us  your  absent  parents — to 
whom  the  roads  of  Italy  on  this  day  are  far  less 
grateful  than  the  chapel  of  Rydal  or  of  Rugby.  It  is 
here  amongst  strangers  or  enemies  that  I  could  most 
zealously  defend  the  Church  of  England : — here  one 
may  look  only  at  its  excellences  ;  whereas  at  home,  and 
amongst  ourselves,  it  is  idle  to  be  putting  what  our  own 
business  is  rather  to  mend  and  to  perfect. 

July  tao.  l(M<). 

15.  RiETi.  —  Rieti  is  so  screened  by  the  thousand 
elms  to  which  its  vines  are  trained,  that  you  hardly  can 
see  the  town  till  you  are  in  it.  It  stands  in  the  midst  of 
the  '•  Rosea  Rura,"  this  marvellous  plain  of  the  Velinus, 
a  far  fairer  than  the  Thessalian  Tempe.  Immediately 
above  it  are  some  of  the  rocky  but  exquisitely  soft  hills 
of  the  country, — so  soft  and  sweet  that  they  are  like 
the  green  hills  round  Como,  or  the  delicate  screen  of 
the  head  of  Derwentwater;  the  Apennines  liave  lost 
all  their  harsher  and  keep  only  their  finer  features — 


their  infinite  beauty  of  outline,  and  the  endless  en- 
wmppings  of  their  combes,  their  cliffs,  and  their  woods. 
Rut  here  is  water  every^vhere,  which  gives  a  universal 
fresimess  to  everything.  Rieti,  I  see,  stands  just  at  an 
opening  of  the  hills,  so  that  you  may  catch  its  towers 
on  the  sky  between  them.  We  have  crossed  the 
Velino  to  its  left  bank,  just  below  its  confluence  with 
the  Torrano,  the  ancient  Tereno,  as  I  believe,  up  whose 
valley  we  have  just  been  looking,  and  see  it  covered 
with  corn,  stjinding  in  shocks,  but  not  carried.  It  has 
been  often  a  very  strilcing  sight  to  see  the  little  camp 
of  stacks  raised  round  a  farm-house,  and  to  see  multi- 
tudes of  people  assembled,  threshing  their  com,  or 
treading  it  out  with  mules'  or  horses'  feet.  Still  the 
towns  stand  nobly  on  the  mountains.  Behold  Grecio 
before  us, — two  church  towers,  and  the  round  towers  of 
its  old  bastions,  and  the  line  of  its  houses  on  the  edge 
of  one  cliff,  and  with  other  clitTs  rising  behind  it.  The 
road  has  chosen  to  go  up  a  slioulder  of  hill  on  the  left 
of  the  valley,  for  no  other  visible  reason  than  to  give 
travellers  a  station  like  the  Bowuess  Terrace,  from 
which  they  might  have  a  general  view  over  it.  It  is 
really  like  ••  the  garden  of  the  Lord,"  and  the  "  Seraph 
guard  "  might  keep  their  watch  on  the  summit  of  the 
opjjosite  mountains,  which,  seen  under  the  morning 
sun,  are  invested  in  a  haze  of  heavenly  light,  as  if 
shrouding  a  more  than  earthly  glory.  Truly  may  one 
feel  with  Von  Canitz*.  that  if  the  glory  of  God's 
perishable  works  be  so  great,  what  must  be  the  glory  of 
the  imperishable, — what  infinitely  more  of  Him  who  is 
the  author  of  both !  And  if  I  feel  thrilling  through 
•  See  the  story  and  poem  in  Serm.  vol.  iv.  note  B. 


icS 


H 


\\ 


t  it  i    -r'  •     -.  ^  »-     ;-    • . 


1 


•-..  ,.v  <■  - , 


■v'v,i=-;f 


■a  1  ,.  '  ,.        ••.*.,-■"  •'•^-■'^ 


104 


TRAVELLING  JOURNALS   IN   ITALY. 


TRAVELLING  JOURNALS   IN   ITALY. 


105 


me  the  sense  of  this  outward  beauty — innocent,  indeed, 
yet  necessarily  unconscious, — what  is  the  sense  one 
ought  to  have  of  moral  beauty, — of  God  the  Holy 
Spirit'd  creation, — of  humbleness  and  truth,  and  self- 
devotion  and  love!  ^luch  more  beautiful,  because 
made  truly  after  God's  image,  are  the  forms  and 
colours  of  kind  and  wise  and  holy  thoughts,  and  words, 
and  actions ;  more  truly  beautiful  is  one  hour  of  old 
Mrs.  Price's*  patient  waiting  for  the  Lord's  time,  and 
her  cheerful  and  kind  interest  in  us  all,  feeling  as  if 
she  owed  us  anything, — than  this  glorious  valley  of  the 
Velinus.  For  this  will  pass  away,  and  that  will  not 
pass  away:  but  that  is  not  the  great  point; — believe 
with  Aristotle  that  this  should  abide,  and  that  should 
peri>h ;  still  there  is  in  the  moral  beauty,  an  inherent 
excellence  which  the  natural  beauty  cannot  have ;  for 
the  moral  beauty  is  actually,  sn  in  speak,  God,  and  not 
merely  His  work :  His  livhiy  and  conscious  ministers 
and  servants  are — it  is  permitted  us  to  say  so — the 
temples  of  which  the  light  is  God  Himself. 

July  so,  I»10. 

10.  Watershed  of  the  Apennines.  —  We  have 
now  one  of  the  best  possible  specimens  of  the  ancient 
mountain  towns  close  above  us.  This  is  Torri,  stand- 
ing on  the  top  of  a  hill,  and  stretching  down  towards 
the  plain.  Its  churches  are  at  the  summit  like  an 
acropolis,  and  from  thence  its  walls  diverge  down 
the  hill,  and  are  joined  by  a  cross  wall,  the  base  of 

the   triangle,    near    but   not  at   the  plain .     The 

walls   are   perfect,    and,  there   being  no  suburbs,  the 

•  An  old  womaa  iu  the  Almshouses  at  Kugby,  alluded  to  in  the 
Life,  pp.  183.  018. 


town  IS  quite  distinctly  marked,  standing  iu  a  mass  of 
olives  around  it ;  and  below  I  see  that  it  is  not  quite  a 
triangle,  but  rather  a  triangle  stuck  on  to  a  rude  circle. 
Spoleto  is  still  beautifully  visible  at  the  end  of  the 
plaiu  behind  us.  I  can  conceive  Hannibal's  Numidians 
trj'ing  to  carry  it  ctvro$ou  after  they  had  han-ied  all  this 
delicious  plain ;  and  if  the  colony  shut  its  gates  against 
them,  and  was  not  panic-struck  by  the  terror  of  Thi'asy- 
menus,  it  did  well,  and  deserved  honour,  as  did  Nola  iu 
like  case,  although  Marcellus's  son  lied  about  his  father  s 
life  no  less  valiantly  than  he  did  about  his  death. 

Arrived  at  Ponte  Centesimo  5.51.  Left  it  6.2. 
The  valley  narrow,  and  the  oaks  veiy  nice  on  the  hill 
sides.  The  road  ascends  steeply  from  Ponte  Centesimo 
along  the  side  of  the  hills  as  a  terrace.  The  road  is 
now  very  beautiful,  the  hills  on  both  sides  ai'e  wooded* 
and  the  turf  nnder  them  is  soft  in  the  moniing  sun. 
We  have  still  the  vines  and  the  maize,  but  I  doubt 
whether  we  shal'  many  more  olives;  for  from  here 
to  the  top  of  the  Apennines  it  will  be  too  high  for 
them,  and  they  have  the  good  taste  not  to  grow  in  that 
mongrel  Italy  between  the  Apennines  and  the  Alps. 
Here  we  cross  a  great  feeder  of  the  main  stream,  great 
in  width  of  bed,  but  very  small  in  his  supply  of  water, 
while  the  main  stream,  like  an  honest  man,  seems  to 
be  no  more  than  he  is,  has  a  little  channel,  but  fills  it 
with  water.  Behold  meadows  by  the  stream  side,  and 
mowing  going  forward  ;  and,  0  marvellous  for  a  summer 
scent  in  Italy  I  the  smell  of  fresh  hay !  It  is  quite 
lovely,  the  hill  sides  like  Rydal  Park,  and  the  valley 
like  our  great  hay-fields,  with  cattle  feeding  freely ;  but 
still    the    Apennine    character  of  endless   dells  and 


h 


?::3ifa;iak.iaa^:^a»>^^*gj 


-vi^t::-' 


,  i^f^ik-iK^^^^;'^-l 


-"*•.>*■ 


lAA.^^ 


SfisiM^i 


^^w^w^m- 


P'..^! 


100 


TRAVELUNG   JOURNALS   IN    ITALY. 


TR.VVELUNG   JOURNALS    IN   ITALY. 


107 


combes  in  tlie  mountain  sides,  which  give  a  character 
of  variety  and  beauty  to  the  details  of  the  great 
landscape,  quite  peculiar  to  cfentnil  Italy.  We  have 
had  no  stage  like  this  since  we  have  entered  Italy,  and 
it  goes  on  still  with  the  same  beauty.  And  now  we 
have  crossed  our  beautiful  stream,  and  are  going  up  a 
little  valley  to  our  right,  in  which  stands  Nocera.  I 
did  not  notice  when  we  arrived  at  Nocera,  but  we  left 
it  7.30.  If  for  a  moment  the  country  in  the  preceding 
stage  could  have  made  us  forget  that  we  were  in  Italy, 
the  town  of  Nocera  would  soon  have  reminded  us  of  it ; 
standing  on  a  hill  as  usual,  and  with  all  its  charac- 
teristic style  of  building.  A  few  olives  too  were  and 
are  still  to  be  seen,  and  the  vines  are  luxuriant.  We 
went  up  a  steep  hill,  and  down  a  steeper  out  of  Nocera ; 
to  get  out  of  the  valley  of  the  Nocera  feeder,  and  to 
come  again  into  the  valley  of  our  old  friend  the 
Calcignolo;  but  now  it  is  very  wide,  and  we  are  not 
near  his  stream,  but  on  the  roots  of  the  mountains, 
with  a  wide  view  right  and  left  of  upland  slopes,  com, 
and  vines,  and  the  hills  beautifuUv  wooded,  and  the 
combes  delicious,  and  water  trickling  down,  or  rather 
running  in  every  little  stream  bed.  We  have  had 
much  up  and  down  over  the  swellings  and  sinkings  of 
the  hill  sides  and  combes,  but  as  Terzo  is  gone  back, 
our  way,  I  presume,  will  now  be  smoother.  As  I  now 
sit  between  Guisano  and  Gualdo,  I  see  the  valley  or 
upland  plain  in  which  we  are  stretching  away  quite  to 
the  central  ridge,  which  sinks  at  that  point  perceptibly, 
80  that  the  Apennines  are  here  penetrated  from  the 
south  with  no  trouble.  Even  here  I  see  a  few  olives, 
but  the  vines  and  maize  giow  freely  over  the  whole 


country,  and  the  hills  are  beautifully  wooded,  so  that  a 
more  delightful  or  liveable  region  is  not  easily  to  be 
found.  Compare  this  pass  of  the  Apennines  with  that 
between  Isermia  and  Castel  di  Sangro,  or  with  the 
tremendous  descent  from  the  Five-mile  plain  to 
Sulmona.  We  descend  a  steep  hill  into  the  combe,  in 
which  is  Gualdo,  and  arrive  at  the  post,  9.0.  I  did  not 
notice  our  leaving  it,  because  there  was  a  dispute  about 
a  Terzo.  We  have  just  passed  a  road,  going  to  Gubbio 
Iguvium,  so  famous  for  its  tables  in  the  Umbrian 
language,  but  some  of  them  wi-itten  in  the  Latin 
character.  Still  ups  and  downs  perpetual,  but  fresh 
water  everywhere,  which  freshens  the  whole  landscape, 
and  it  is  truly  beautiful.  Still  I  see  a  few  olives  on 
the  hill  side  above  us,  but  they  must  be  nearly  the  last. 
Here  is  another  such  descent  into  the  combe,  on  the 
opposite  side  of  which  stands  Sigillo,  and  still  here  are 
the  olives.  Arrived  at  Sigillo  10.44.  Left  it  1 1.0. 
Still  the  same  beautiful  plain,  com,  and  maize,  and 
festooning  vines,  although  we  are  on  high  ground,  and 
going  to  cross  the  main  ridge  of  the  Apennines  with 
no  Terzo ;  and  still  olives,  while  fine  oaks  are  scattered 
over  the  plain,  and  raise  their  higher  foliage  above  the 
universal  green  of  the  young  trees  where  the  vines  are 
trained.  The  road  has  continued  stealing  up  along  the 
sides  of  the  hills  till  we  are  nearly  arrived  at  the  head 
of  the  valley,  and  also  at  the  extremity  of  cultivation, 
for  only  a  thin  belt  of  vines  now  intervenes  between  us 
and  the  bare  hill  side.  And  yet  there  are  olives  even 
here,  and  the  oaks  are  quite  beautiful ;  and  walnuts  are 
intermixed  with  them.  The  road  turns  left  across  the 
valley  to  go  round  a  spur  or  shoulder  which  runs  out 


r-'5f 


SLh-i 


IW-ftf 


f?^5^j^^^7^^^l^^^^^^^^^^^^ 


10?s 


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TRAVELLINU    JUtJltNALS    IN    ITALY. 


109 


from  tbe  hills  on  the  right ;  how  or  where  we  cross  tlie 

watershed  I  do  not  yet  see. We  have  turned  our 

spur  and  the  road  goes  right,  and  the  watershed  opens 
before  us — just  a  straight  line  between  the  hills,  and 
closing  up  the  valley  as  with  a  dam ;  exactly  as  in 
ascending  Winster  we  find  the  top  of  the  valley,  just 
before  going  down  upon  Windermere.  Yet  one  or  two 
olives  are  to  be  found  even  here,  and  the  vines  and 
maize  ai'e  everywhere.  I  know  of  no  other  such 
passage  of  a  great  mountain  chain,  presening  actually 
up  to  the  very  watershed  all  the  richness  of  a  southern 
valley,  and  yet  with  the  freshness  of  a  mountain  region 
too.  And  here  we  are  on  the  "  ipsissimum  divortium," 
still  amidst  the  trailing  vines;  and  here  is  T  n  ^chezzia, 
on  a  stream  which  is  going  to  the  Adriatic. 

17.  The  Flaminian  Way. 

From  tlio  Hi^ory  of  Rumc,  vol.  UK  p.  &5. 

*'  AVliilo  Flaniiiiius  imitated  Fubius  and  Decius  in 
their  political  regulations,  he  rivalled  Appius  Claudius 
in  the  greatness  of  his  public  works.  He  perfected 
the  direct  communication  between  Rome  and  Arimi- 
uum,  the  great  road,  which,  turning  to  the  right 
after  crossing  the  Milviim  bridge,  ascended  the  valley 
of  the  Tiber,  leaving  Soracte  on  its  left,  till  it  again 
joined  the  line  of  the  modern  road  where  it  recrosses 
the  Tiber  and  ascends  to  Ocriculum;  which  then 
ascended  the  valley  uf  the  Xur  to  Naniia  and  Inter- 
am  nia,  passed  over  the  lofty  ridge  of  the  Monte 
Somma,  descended  on  the  newly-founded  colony  of 
Spoletum,  and  passed  through  the  magnificent  plain 


beyond  till  it  reached  Fulginia:  which  there  again 
penetrating  into  the  green  valley  of  the  Calcignola, 
wound  its  way  along  the  stream  to  Nuceria;  which 
then,  by  an  imperceptible  ascent,  rose  through  the 
wide  upland  plain  of  Ilelvilluni  (Sigillo)  to  the  central 
ridge  of  the  Apennines ;  T^hich,  the  moment  it  had 
crossed  the  ridge,  plunged  precipitately  down  into 
the  deep  and  narrow  gorge  of  the  Cantiano,  and, 
hemmed  in  between  gigantic  walls  of  cliff,  struggled 
on  for  many  miles  through  the  defile,  till  it  came 
out  upon  the  open  country,  where  the  Cantiano  joins 
the  Metaurus ;  which  then,  through  a  rich  and  slightly- 
varied  plain,  followed  the  left  bank  of  that  fateful 
stream  till  it  reached  the  shores  of  the  Adriatic ;  and 
which  finally  kept  the  line  of  the  low  coast  to  Ari- 
minum,  the  last  city  of  Italy,  on  the  very  edge  of 
Cisalpine  Gaul.  This  great  road,  which  is  still  one 
of  the  chief  lines  of  communication  in  Italy,  and 
which  still  exhibits  in  its  bridges,  substructions,  and 
above  all  in  the  magnificent  tunnel  of  Furlo,  splendid 
monuments  of  Roman  greatness,  has  immortalized  the 
name  of  C.  Flaminius,  and  was  known  throughout  the 
times  of  the  Commonwealth  and  the  Empire  as  the 
Flaminian  Way." 

July  21,  1»10. 

18.  Banks  of  the  Metaurus. — "Livy  says,  *the 
farther  Hasdrubal  got  from  the  sea,  the  steeper  became 
the  banks  of  the  river.'  We  noticed  some  steep  banks, 
but  prol)ably  they  were  much  higher  twenty- three  cen- 
turies ago ;  for  all  rivers  have  a  tendency  to  raise  them- 
selves, from  accumulations  of  gravel,  &c. ;  the  windings 


i£.At"^^'  ■■'-'-'■- 


. »        .    "-J 


110 


TRAVELLING    JOUIINALS    IN    ITALY. 


TRAVELLING   JOFRNALS    IX    ITALY. 


Ill 


of  the  stream,  also,  would  be  much  more  as  Livy  de- 
scribes them,  in  the  natuml  state  of  the  river.  The 
present  aspect  of  this  tract  of  countiy  is  the  result  of 
2000  years  of  civilization,  and  would  be  very  different  in 
those  times.  There  would  be  much  of  natural  forest 
remaining,  the  only  cultivation  being  the  square  patches 
of  the  Roman  messores,  and  these  only  on  the  best  land. 
The  whole  plain  would  look  wild,  like  a  new  and  half- 
settled  country.  One  of  the  greatest  physical  changes 
on  the  earth  is  produced  by  the  extermination  of 
carnivorous  animals;  for  llien  the  graminivorous 
become  so  numerous  as  to  eat  up  all  the  young  trees, 
so  that  the  forests  rapidly  diminish,  except  those 
trees  which  they  do  not  eat,  as  pines  and  (irs." 

July  23,  ViiO. 

19.  Inscriptions. — Between  Faeuza  and  Imola.just 
now,  I  saw  a  large  building  standing  back  from  the  road, 
on  the  right,  with  two  places  somewhat  like  lodges  in 
front  on  the  road-side.  On  one  of  them  was  the 
inscription  "Labor  omnia  vicit,"  and^the  lines  about 
iron  working,  ending  '*  Argutae  lamina  sente."  On  the 
other  were  Horace's  lines  about  drinking,  without 
fear  of  '*  iusan®  leges.'*  Therefore,  I  suppose  that 
tliese  buildings  were  an  iron  foundry,  and  a  public 
or  cafe;  but  the  classical  inscriptions  seemed  to  me 
characteristic  of  that  foolery  of  classicalism  which 
maiks  the  Italians,  and  infects  those  with  us  who 
are  called  "elegant  scholars."  It  appears  to  me  that 
in  Chiistian  Europe  the  only  book  from  which  quo- 
tations are  always  natural  and  good  as  inscriptions 
for  all  sorts  of  places,  is  the   Bible ;  because  every 


calling  of  life  has  its  serious  side,  if  it  be  not  sinful ; 
and  a  quotation  from  the  Bible  relating  to  it,  is  taking 
it  on  this  serious  side,  which  is  at  once  a  true  side,  and 
a  most  important  one.  But  iron  foundries  and  publics 
have  no  connection  with  mere  book  literature,  which,  to 
the  people  concerned  most  with  either,  is  a  thing 
utteriy  uncongenial.  And  inscriptions  on  such  places 
should  be  for  those  who  most  frequent  them  :  a  lite- 
rary man  writing  up  something  upon  them,  for  other 
literar}'  men  to  read,  is  like  the  impertinence  of  two 
scholars  talking  to  each  other  in  Latin  at  a  coach 
dinner. 

Bolo^a,  July  'Xi,  1S40. 

20.  The  Papal  States And  now  this  is  the 

last  night,  I  trust,  in  which  1  shall  sleep  in  the  Pope's 
dominions ;  for  it  is  impossible  not  to  be  sickened  with 
a  Govennneut  such  as  this,  which  discharges  no  one 
function  decently.  The  ignorance  of  tlie  people  is  pro- 
digious,— how  can  it  be  otherwise?  The  booksellers' 
shops,  sad  to  behold, — the  very  opposite  of  that  scribe, 
instructed  to  the  kingdom  of  God,  who  was  to  briuf^ 
out  of  his  treasures  things  new  and  old,  —  these 
scribes,  not  of  the  kingdom  of  God,  bring  out  of 
their  treasures  nothing  good,  either  new  or  old,  but 
the  mere  rubbish  of  the  past  and  the  present.  Other 
Governments  may  see  an  able  and  energetic  sovereign 
arise,  to  whom  God  may  give  a  long  reign,  so  that 
what  he  began  in  youth,  he  may  live  to  complete 
in  old  age.  But  here  every  reign  must  be  short; 
for  every  sovereign  comes  to  the  throne  an  old  man, 
and  with  no  better  education  than  that  of  a  priest. 


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TllAVELLINO   JOURNALS   IN   ITALY. 


113 


Where,  then,  can  there  be  hope  under  such  a  83'stem, 
80  contrived  as  it  should  seem  for  every  evil  end. 
and  so  necessttrily  exclusive  of  good  ?  I  could  muse 
long  and  deeply  on  the  state  of  this  country,  but 
it  is  not  ray  business;  neither  do  I  see,  humanlv 
speaking,  one  gleam  of  liope.  **l.'il7,"  said  Niebubr, 
*'  must  precede  1 088 ; "  but  where  are  the  symptoms 
of  1517  here?  And  if  one  evil  spirit  be  cast  out. 
there  are  but  seven  others  yet  more  evil,  if  it  may 
be,  ready  to  enter.  Wherefore,  I  have  no  sympathy 
with  the  so-called  Liberal  party  here  any  more  than 
has  Bunsen.  They  are  but  types  of  the  counter  evil 
of  Popery, — that  is,  of  Jacobinism.  The  two  are 
obverse  and  revei*se  of  the  coin,  —  the  imprinting 
of  one  type  on  the  one  side,  necessarily  brings  out 
the  other  on  the  other  side;  and  so  in  a  perpetual 
series;  for  [Newmanism]  leads  to  [Socialism],  and 
[Socialism]  leads  to  [Newmanism], — the  eternal  oscil- 
lations of  the  drunken  mima, — the  varying  vices  and 
vileness  of  the  slave,  and  the  slave  broken  loose. 
"Half  of  our  virtue,"  says  Homer,  "is  torn  away 
when  a  man  becomes  a  slave,"  and  the  other  half  ^rio^^ 
when  he  becomes  a  slave  broken  loose.  Wheiviui^ 
may  God  grant  us  freedom  from  all  idolatr}-,  whether 
of  llesh  or  of  spirit;  tliat  fearing  Him*  and  loving 
Him,  we  may  fear  and  bow  down  before  no  idol,  and 
never  worshipping  what  ought  not  to  be  worshipped, 
may  so  escape  the  other  evil-  of  not  worshipping  what 
ought  to  be  worshipped.     Good  night,  my  darlings. 

•  "  He  fears  God  thorongbly,  and  he  fears  neither  man  nor  Devil 
beside,'*  was  bis  cbaracterisUc  description  of  a  thoroughly  couragv- 
ous  man. 


July  1»4,  18J0. 

21.  As  we  are  going  through  this  miserable  State  of 
Modena,  it  makes  me  feel  most  strongly  what  it  is  to 
be  lAit'Sffa,-  iro?v«w,-  rroxW^^.  What  earthly  thing  co\i]d 
induce  me  to  change  the  condition  of  an  English  pri- 
vate gentleman  for  any  conceivable  rank  or  fortune,  or 
authority  in  Modena?  How  much  of  my  nature  must 
I  surrender;  how  many  faculties  must  consent  to 
abandon  their  exercise  before  the  change  could  be  other 
than  intolerable?  Feeling  this,  one  can  understand 
the  Spartan  answer  to  the  Great  King's  satrap,  "  Hadst 
tbou  known  what  freedom  was,  thou  wouldst  advise  us 
to  defend  it  not  with  swords,  but  with  axes."  Now 
there  are  some.  Englishmen  unhappily,  but  most  un- 
>Northy  to  be  so,  who  affect  to  talk  of  freedom,  and  a 
citizens  rights  and  duties,  as  things  about  which  a 
Christian  should  not  care.  Like  all  their  other  doc- 
trines, this  comes  out  of  the  shallowness  of  their  little 
minds,  "understanding  neither  what  they  say,  nor 
whereof  they  affirm."  True  it  is,  that  St.  Paul,  ex- 
pecting that  the  worid  was  shortly  to  end,  tells  a  man 
not  to  care  even  if  he  were  in  a  state  of  personal 
slavery.  That  is  an  endurable  evil  whicb  will  shortly 
cease,  not  in  itself  only,  but  in  its  consequences.  But 
even  for  the  few  years  during  which  he  supposed  the 
worid  would  exist,  he  says,  "  if  thou  mayst  be  made 
free,  use  it  rather."  For  true  it  is  that  a  great  part  of 
the  virtues  of  human  nature  can  scarcely  be  developed 
m  a  state  of  slavery,  whether  personal  or  political. 
The  passive  virtues  may  exist,  the  active  ones  suffer. 
Truth,  too.  suffers  especially ;  if  a  man  may  not  declare 
his  convictions  when  he  wishes  to  do  so,  he  learns  to 


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115 


conceal  them  also  for  bis  own  convenience ;  from  being 
obliged  to  play  the  hypocrite  for  others,  he  leanis  to  lie 
on  his  own  account.  And  as  the  ceasing  to  lie  is  men- 
tioned by  St.  Paul,  as  one  of  the  first  marks  of  the 
renewed  nature,  so  the  learning  to  lie  is  one  of  the 

surest  marks  of  nature  unrenewed Time  it 

is,  that  the  first  Christians  lived  under  a  despotism,  and 
yet  that  truth,  and  the  active  virtues  were  admirably 
developed   in   them.      But  the   first  manifestation  of 
Christianity  was  in  all  respects  of  a  character  so  ex- 
traordinary as  abundantly  to  make  up  for  the  absence 
of  more  ordinaiy  instruments  for  the  elevation  of  the 
human  mind.     It  is  more  to  the  puii)ose  to  observe, 
that  immediately  after  the  Apostolic  times,  the  total 
absence  of  all  civil  self-government  was  one  great  cause 
which  iniined  the  government  of  the  Church  also,  and 
prepared   men   for   the   abominations   of  the   priestly 
dominion;  while  on  the  other  hand  Guizot  has  well 
shown  that  one  great  cause  of  the  superiority  of  the 
Church   to   the   heathen   world,    was   because   in  the 
Church  alone  there  was  a  degree  of  freedom  and  u 
semblance   of    political    activity;    the    great    bishops, 
Athauasius    and   Augustine,   although    subjects   of   a 
despotic  ruler  in  the  State,  were  themselves  free  citizens 
and  rulers  of  a  great  society,  in  the  management  of 
which  all   the  political  faculties  of  tlie  human  mind 
found  suflficient  exercise.     But  when  the  Church  is 
lost  in  the  weakness  and  falsehood  of  a  priesthood,  it 
can  no  longer  furnish  such  a  field,  and  there  is  the 
greater  need  therefore  of  political  freedom.     But  the 
only  perfect  and  entirely  wholesome  freedom,  is  where 
the  Church  and  the  State  are  both  free,  and  both  one. 


Then,  indeed,   there  is  Civitas    Dei,  then    there   is 

a^lsTYi  nal  Ts^ii'-Taru  7n  fvoxirsict.  And  iiow  this  dis- 
cussion  has  brought  me  nearly  half  through  this  Duchy 
of  Modena,  for  we  must  be  more  than  half  way  from 
Piubbiera  to  Reggio. 

Canton  Ticino,  July  25,  lg40. 

22.  We  have  now  just  passed  the  Austrian  frontier, 
and  are  entered  into  Switzeriand,  that  is  into  the  canton 
Ticino— Switzeriand  politically,  but  Italy  still,  and  for 
a  long  time  geographically.  In  comparing  this  country 
with  centml  Italy.  I  observe  the  verdure  of  the  grass 
here,  and  the  absence  of  the  olive,  and  mostly  of  the 
fig,  and  the  comparative  rarity  of  the  vine.  Again,  the 
villages  are  more  scattered  over  the  whole  landscape, 
and  not  confined  to  the  mountains;  and  the  houses 
themselves,  white  and  large  and  with  overhanging 
roofs,  and  standing  wide  and  free,  have  no  resemblance 
to  the  dark  masses  of  uncouth  buildings  which  are 
squeezed  together  upon  the  scanty  surface  of  their 
mountain  platforms  in  central  Italy.  Here  too  is  run- 
ning water  in  every  field — which  keeps  up  this  eternal 
freshness  of  green.  But  in  central  J  tidy  all  the  forms 
are  more  picturesque,  the  glens  are  deeper,  the  hills  are 
bolder,  and  at  the  same  time  softer,  besides  the  in- 
describable charm  tlirown  over  every  scene  there  by  the 
recollection  of  its  antiquities.  Still  I  am  not  sure  that 
I  could  justify  to  another  person  my  own  preference 
beyond  all  comparison  of  the  country  between  Antrodoco 
and  Terni  over  this  between  Como  and  Lugano.  Mola 
di  Gaeta,  Naples,  Terracina,  and  Vietri,  having  the  sea 
iu  their  landscape,  cannot  fairly  be  brought  into  com- 
parison. 

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117 


23.  Geography  of  Italy. 

From  the  I>ectiiroji  on  Modem  Hi»tor>*,  pp.  127—130. 

*'  The  mere  plan  geograpliy  of  Italy  gives  us  its  shape, 
as  I  have  observed,  and  the  position  of  its  towns ;  to 
these  it  may  add  a  semicircle  of  mountains  round  the 
northern  bonndan%  to  represent  the  Alps ;  and  another 
long  line  stretching  down  tlic  middle  of  the  country  to 
represent  the  Apennines.     But  let  us  carry  on  this  a 
little  farther,  and  give  life  and  meaning  and  harmony 
to  what  is  at   present   at   once  lifeless  and  confused. 
Ohsen'e   in   the   first  place,  how  the  Apennine  line, 
beginning  from  the  southern  extremity  of  the  Alps, 
runs  across  Italy  to  the  very  edge  of  the  Adriatic,  and 
thus  separates  naturally  the  Italy  Proper  of  the  Ro- 
mans from  Cisalpine  Gaul.     Observe,  again,  how  the 
Alps,  after  running  north  and  south  where  they  divide 
Italy  from   France,   tuni  then  away  to  the  eastwanl, 
running  almost   parallel  to  the  Apennines,  till   they 
too  touch  the  head  of  the  Adriatic,  on  the  confines  of 
Istria.      Thus  between  these  two  lines  of  mountains 
there  is  enclosed  one  great  basin  or  plain  ;  enclosed  on 
three  sides  by  mountains,  open  only  on  the  cast  to  the 
sea.    Obsene  how  widely  it  spreads  itself  out,  and  then 
see  how  well  it  is  watered.      One  great  river  flows 
through  it  in  its  whole   extent;   and    this  is  fed  by 
streams  almost  unnumbered,  descending  towards  it  on 
either  side,  from  the  Alps  on  one  side,  and  from  the 
Apennines  on  the  other.     Who  can  wonder  that  tliis 
large  and  rich  and  well-watered  plain  should  be  filled 
with  flourishing  cities,  or  that  it  should  have  been  con- 
tended  for  so  often   by  successive    invaders  ?    Then 
descending  into  Italy  Proper,  we  find  the  complexity 


of  its  geography  quite  in  accordance  with  its  manifold 
political  di\isions.  It  is  not  one  simple  central  ridge 
of  mountains,  leaving  a  broad  belt  of  level  countiy  on 
either  side  between  it  and  the  sea ;  nor  yet  is  it  a  chain 
rising  immediately  from  the  sea  on  one  side,  like  the 
Andes  in  South  America,  and  leaving  room  therefore 
on  the  other  side  for  wide  plains  of  table-laud,  and  for 
rivers  with  a  suflicient  length  of  course  to  become  at 
list  great  and  navigable.  It  is  a  back-bone  thickly  set 
with  spines  of  unequal  length,  some  of  them  nuinin<' 
out  at  regular  distances  parallel  to  each  other,  but 
others  twisted  so  strangely  tliut  they  often  run  for  a 
long  way  parallel  to  the  back-bone,  or  main  ridge,  and 
interlace  with  one  another  in  amaze  almost  inextricable. 
And  as  if  to  complete  the  disorder,  in  those  spots  where 
the  spines  of  the  Apennines,  being  twisted  round,  run 
parallel  to  the  sea  and  to  their  own  central  chain,  and 
thus  leave  an  interval  of  plain  between  their  bases 
and  the  Mediterranean,  volcanic  agency  has  broken  up 
the  space  thus  left  with  other  and  distinct  groups  of 
hills  of  its  own  creation,  as  in  the  case  of  Vesuvius  and 
of  the  Alban  liills  near  Piome.  Speaking  generally, 
then,  Italy  is  made  up  of  an  infinite  multitude  of 
valleys  pent  in  between  high  and  steep  hills,  each 
forming  a  country  to  itself,  and  cut  off  by  natural 
barriers  from  the  others.  Its  several  parts  are  isolated 
by  nature,  and  no  art  of  man  can  thoroughly  unite 
them.  Even  the  various  provinces  of  the  same  king- 
dom are  strangers  to  each  other ;  the  Abruzzi  are  like 
an  unknown  world  to  the  inhabitants  of  Naples,  inso- 
much that  when  two  Neapolitan  naturalists  not  ten 
years  since  made  an  excursion  to  visit  the  Majella,  one 


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TRAVELLING   JOURNALS   IN   SWITZEKLAND. 


TRAVELLTNO   JOURNALS   IN   SWITZERLAND. 


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of  the  highest  of  the  central  Apennines,  they  found 
there  many  medicinal  plants  growing  in  the  greatest 
profusion,  which  the  Neapolitans  were  regularly  in  the 
habit  of  importing  from  oUier  countries,  as  no  one 
suspected  their  existence  within  their  own  kingdom. 
Hence  arises  the  romantic  character  of  Italian  scenery: 
the  constant  combination  of  a  mountain  outline,  and  all 
the  wild  features  of  a  mountain  country,  with  the  rich 
vegetation  of  a  southern  climate  in  the  valleys:  hence, 
too,  the  rudeness,  the  pastoral  simplicity,  and  the 
occasional  robber  habits,  to  be  found  in  the  population ; 
so  that  to  this  day  you  may  travel  in  many  places  for 
miles  together  in  the  plains  and  valleys  without  passing 
through  a  single  town  or  village:  for  the  towns  still 
cluster  on  the  mountain  sides,  the  houses  nestling 
together  on  some  scanty  ledge,  with  cliffs  rising  above 
them,  and  sinking  down  abruptly  below  them ;  the  very 
**  congesta  manu  prajruptis  oppida  saxis  "  of  Virgil's 
description,  which  he  even  then  called  "antique  walls,** 
because  they  had  been  the  strongholds  of  the  primeval 
inhabitants  of  the  countrj' ;  and  which  are  still  in- 
habited after  a  lapse  of  so  many  centuries,  nothing  of 
the  stir  and  movement  of  other  parts  of  Europe  having 
penetrated  into  these  lonely  valleys,  and  tempted  the 
people  to  quit  their  mountain  fastnesses  for  a  more 
accessible  dwelling  in  the  plain." 

July  38,  laM. 

Q4.  Swiss  History. — Left  Amsteg  6.50.  The  beauty 
of  the  lower  part  of  this  valley  is  perfect  The  morning 
is  fine,  so  that  we  see  the  tops  of  the  mountains,  which 
rise  0000  feet  above  the  sea  directly  from  the  valley. 


TTuge  precipices,  crowned  with  pines,  rising  out  of  pines, 
nnd  with  pines  between  them,  succeed  below  to  the  crags 
and  glaciers.  Then  in  the  valley  itself,  green  hows,  with 
walnuts  and  pears,  and  wild  cherries,  and  the  gardens 
of  these  picturesque  Swiss  cottages,  scattered  about  over 
them ;  and  the  roaring  Reuss,  the  only  inharmonious 
clement  where  he  is, — ^yet  he  himself  not  incapable  of 
being  made  harmonious  if  taken  in  a  certain  point  of 
view,  at  the  very  bottom  of  all.  This  is  the  Canton 
Uri,  one  of  the  Wald  Stiiaten,  or  Forest  Cantons, 
which  were  the  original  germ  of  the  Swiss  confederacy. 
But  Uri,  like  Sparta,  has  to  answer  the  question,  what 
has  mankind  gained  over  and  above  the  ever  precious 
example  of  noble  deeds,  from  Murgarten,  Sempach,  or 
Thermopylae.  What  the  world  has  gained  by  Salamis 
and  Plataja,  and  by  Zama,  is  on  the  other  hand  no 
question,  any  more  than  it  ought  to  be  a  question  what 
the  world  has  gained  by  the  defeat  of  Philip's  armada, 
or  by  Trafalgar  and  Waterloo.  But  if  a  nation  only 
does  great  deeds  that  it  may  live,  and  does  not  show 
some  worthy  object  for  which  it  has  lived,  and  Uri  and 
Switzerland  have  shown  but  too  little  of  any  such,  then 
our  symj)athy  with  the  great  deeds  of  their  history  can 
hardly  go  beyond  the  generation  by  which  those  deeds 
were  performed;  and  I  cannot  help  thinking  of  the 
mercenary  Swiss  of  Novaro  and  Marignano,  and  of  the 
oppression  exercised  over  the  Italian  bailiwicks  and 
the  Pays  de  Vaud,  and  all  the  tyrannical  exclusiveness 
of  these  little  barren  oligarchies,  as  much  as  of  the 
heroic  deeds  of  the  three  men.  Tell  and  his  comrades, 
or  of  the  self-devotion  of  my  namesake  of  Winkelried, 


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120  TRAVELLTNO   JOURNALS    IN    SWITZERFJ^ND. 

when  at  Sempach  he  received  into  his  breast  *•  a  sheaf 
of  Austrian  spears." 

Steamer  on  the  Laku  of  Luzero,  July  A),  liMo. 

26.  Swiss  Lakes. — We  arrived  at  Fluelen  about  half- 
past  eight,  and  having  had  some  food,  and  most  com- 
mendable food  it  was,  we  are  embarked  on  the  Lake  of 
Luzern,  and  have  already  passed  Bninnen,  and  are  out- 
side tlie  region  of  the  high  Alp8.  It  would  be  difficult 
certainly  for  a  Swiss  to  admire  our  lakes,  because  he 
would  ask,  what  is  there  here  which  we  have  not,  and 
which  we  have  not  on  a  larger  scale.  I  cannot  deny  that 
the  meadows  here  are  as  green  as  ours,  the  valleys 
richer,  the  woods  thicker,  the  cliffs  grander,  the  moun- 
tains by  measurement  twice  or  tliree  limes  higher.  And 
if  Switzerland  were  my  home  and  country,  the  English 
lakes  and  mountains  would  certainly  never  tempt  me 
to  travel  to  see  them,  destitute  as  they  are  of  all  his- 
torical interest.  In  fact,  Switzerland  is  to  Europe, 
what  Cumberland  and  Westmoreland  are  to  Lancashire 
and  Yorkshire;  the  general  summer  touring  place. 
But  all  country  that  is  actually  beautiful  is  capable 
of  atTording  to  those  who  live  in  it  the  highest  pleasure 
of  scenery,  which  no  country,  however  beautiful,  can  do 
to  those  who  merelv  travel  in  it ;  and  thus  while  I  do 
not  dispute  the  higher  interest  of  Switzerland  to  a 
Swiss,  (no  Englishman  ought  to  make  another  country 
his  home,  and  therefore  I  do  not  speak  of  Englishmen,) 
I  must  still  maintain  that  to  me  Fairlield  is  a  hundred 
times  more  beautiful  than  the  Righi,  and  Windermere 
than  the  lakes  of  the  Four  Cantons.     Not  that  I  think 


TRAVELLIKG   JOURNALS   IN    SWITZERLAND. 


1->1 


tliis  is  oven'alucd  by  travellers,  it  cannot  be  so ;  but 
most  people  undervalue  greatly  what  mountains  are 
when  they  form  a  part  of  our  daily  life,  and  combine 
not  with  our  hours  of  leisure,  of  wandering,  and  of 
enjoyment,  but  with  those  of  home  life,  of  work,  and  of 
duty.  Luzern,  July  20.  We  accomplished  the  passage 
of  the  lake  in  about  three  hours,  and  most  beautiful  it 
was  all  the  way.  And  now,  as  in  1827,  I  recognize  the 
forms  of  our  common  English  couutrj-,  and  should  be 
bidding  adieu  to  mountains,  and  preparing  merely  for 
our  llugby  lanes  and  banks,  and  Kugby  work,  were  it 
not  for  the  delightful  excrescence  of  a  tour  which  we 
liope  to  make  to  Fox  How,  and  three  or  four  days' 
enjoyment  of  our  own  mountains,  hallowed  by  our 
English  Church,  and  hallowed  scarcely  less  by  our 
English  Law.  Alas,  the  difference  between  Church 
and  Law,  and  clergy  and  lawyers;  but  so  in  human 
things  the  concrete  ever  adds  unworthiness  to  the 
abstract.  I  have  been  sure  for  many  years  that  the 
subsiding  of  a  tour,  if  I  may  so  speak,  is  quite  as 
delightful  as  its  swelling ;  I  call  it  its  subsiding,  when 
one  passes  by  common  things  indifferently,  and  even 
great  things  with  a  fainter  interest,  because  one  is  so 
strongly  thinking  of  home  and  of  the  returning  to 
ordinary'  relations  and  duties. 

July  S9,  1»40. 

26.  Swiss  Lowlands. — We  have  left  the  mountains 
and  lakes  of  Switzerland,  and  are  entering  upon  the  Low- 
lands, which  like  those  of  Scotland  are  alwavs  unduly 
depreciated  by  being  compared  with  their  Highlands. 
The  Swiss  Lowlands  are  a  beautiful  country  of  hill  or 


''-.'l'..i. -.jlSC".' 


afl!tMr.a.:  J.  cH:.»>:aA-  irn:.  _.  4 


;i. 


122 


TRWELLrSG   JOURNALS   IN    FRANCE. 


valley— never  flat,  and  never  baiTen; — a  country  like 
the  best  parts  of  Shropshire  or  Worcestershire.  They 
are  beautifully  watered — almost  all  the  rivers  flowing 
out  of  lakes,  and  keeping  a  full  body  of  water  all  the 
year;  and  they  are  extremely  well  wooded,  besides  the 
wooded  appearance  given  to  the  country  by  its  numerous 
walnut,  pear,  and  apple  trees.  They  are  also  a  well- 
inhabited  and  apparently  a  flourishing  country;  nor 
could  I  ever  discern  that  difference  between  the 
Protestant  and  Catholic  Cantons,  under  similar  circum- 
stances, which  some  of  our  writei*s  have  seen  or  fancied. 
As  for  the  present  aspect  of  the  country — the  com  is 
cutting  but  not  cut;  and  much  of  it  has  been  sadly 
laid.  Vines  there  are  none  hereabouts,  nor  maize,  but 
plenty  of  good  grass,  apple,  and  pear  trees,  and  walnuts 
numberless, — hemp,  potatoes,  and  corn.  The  views 
behind  the  mountains  are  and  will  be  magnificent  all 
the  way  till  we  get  over  the  Ilauensteiu  hills,  the  con- 
tinuation of  the  Jura,  and  we  are  now  ascending  from 
tlie  valley  of  the  Reuss  to  get  over  to  the  feeder  of  the 
Aar — the  great  river  of  the  Beniese  Oberland  and  of 
Bern. 

27.  Arrived  at  St.  Omer. — And  Pave  is  dead,  and 
we  have  left  our  last  French  town  except  Calais,  and 
all  things  and  feelings  French  seem  going  to  sleep  in 
me, — cares  of  carriage^ares  of  passport — cares  of 
inns — cares  of  postilions  and  of  Pave,  and  there  revive 
within  me  the  habitual  cares  of  my  life,  which  for  the 
last  seven  weeks  have  slumbered.  In  many  things  the 
beginning  and  end  are  different,  in  few  more  so  than  in 


1*  _ 


TTlAVFTXING   JOURNALS   IN    FRANCE. 


123 


a  tour.  ••  Coelum  non  animura  mutant  qui  trans  mare 
curnmt,"  is  in  ray  cr\^r^  '"ioubly  false.  My  mind  changes 
twice,  from  my  honjc  .self  to  my  travelling  self,  and 
then  to  my  home  self  back  again.  On  this  day  seven 
weeks  I  travelled  this  very  stage;  its  appearance  in 
that  inter^'al  is  no  doubt  altered;  flowers  are  gone  by, 
and  com  is  yellow  which  was  green  ;  but  I  am  changed 
even  more— changed  in  ray  appetites  and  in  my  im- 
pressions ;  for  then  I  craved  locomotion  and  rest  from 
mental  work — now  I  desire  to  remain  still  as  to  place, 
and  to  set  my  mind  to  work  again  ; — then  I  looked  at 
everj'thing  on  the  road  with  interest,  drinking  in 
eagerly  a  sense  of  the  reality  of  foreign  objects — now 
T  only  notice  our  advance  homeward,  and  foreign 
ohjects  seem  to  be  things  with  which  I  have  no 
concern.  But  it  is  not  that  I  feel  any  way  tired  of 
things  and  persons  French,  only  that  I  do  so  long  for 
things  and  persons  English.  I  never  felt  more  keenly 
the  wish  to  see  the  peace  between  the  two  countries 
perpetual ;  never  could  I  be  more  indignant  at  the  folly 
and  wickedness  which  on  both  sides  of  the  water  are 
trying  to  rekindle  the  flames  of  war.  The  one  effect  of 
the  last  war  ought  to  be  to  excite  in  both  nations  the 
greatest  mutual  respect.  France,  with  the  aid  of  half 
Europe,  could  not  conquer  England;  England,  with 
the  aid  of  all  Europe,  never  could  have  overcome 
France,  had  France  been  zealous  and  united  in 
Xapoleon's  quarrel.  When  Napoleon  saw  kings  and 
princes  bowing  before  him  at  Dresden,  Wellington  was 
advancing  victoriously  in  Spain;  when  a  milHon  of 
men  in  1815  were  invading  France,  Napoleon  engaged 
for  three  days  with  two  ai*mies,  each  singly  equal  to  his 


^'■..■'.^S 


124 


TRAVEIXING   JOURNALS   IN    ENGIAND. 


THAVELLING    JOURNALS   I\    ENGLANT). 


125 


own,  and  was  for  two  days  victorious.  Equally  and 
utterly  false  are  the  follies  uttered  by  silly  men  of  both 
countries,  about  tlie  certainty  of  one  beating  the  other. 
Ov  ToXy  ^»af  Iff  apO^araro?  at^^AtTToVy  is  especiidly  applicable 
here.  When  Englishmen  and  Frenchmen  meet  in 
war,  each  may  know  that  they  will  meet  in  the  other 
all  a  soldier's  qualities,  skill,  activity,  and  undaunted 
courage,  with  bodies  able  to  do  the  bidding  of  the 
spirit  either  in  action  or  in  endurance.  England  and 
France  may  do  each  other  incalculable  mischief  by 
going  to  war,  both  physically  and  momlly ;  but  they 
can  gain  for  themselves,  or  hope  to  gain  nothing.  It 
were  an  accursed  wish  in  either  to  wish  to  destroy  the 
other,  and  happily  the  wish  would  be  as  utterly  vain  as 
it  would  be  wicked. 

August  G.  1»4U. 

28.  Left  Dover  7.45.  What  am  I  to  say  of  this 
perfect  road  and  perfect  posting ;  of  the  gi*eenness  and 
neatness  of  everything,  the  delicate  miniature  scale  of 
the  countiy, — the  art  of  the  painter  held  in  honour, 
and  extending  even  to  barns  and  miliugs, — of  the 
manifest  look  of  spring  and  activity  and  business  which 
appears  in  everybody's  movements?  The  manage- 
ment of  the  Commissioner  at  Dover  in  getting  the 
l"go"g6  through  the  Custom  House,  was  a  model  of 
method  and  expedition,  and  so  was  the  attendance  at 
the  hms.  All  this  tills  me  with  many  thoughts,  amongst 
which  the  prevailing  one  certainly  is  not  pride :  for 
with  the  sight  of  all  this  tliere  instantly  comes  into  my 
mind  the  thought  of  our  sad  plague  spots,  the  canker 
worm  in  this  beautiful  and  goodly  fruit  corrupting  it 


within.  But  I  will  not  dwell  on  this  now, — personally, 
I  may  indulge  in  the  unspeakable  delight  of  being 
once  again  in  our  beloved  country,  with  our  English 
Church  and  English  Law. 

Auffiist  7,  IS40. 

20.  Even  whilst  I  write,  the  houses  of  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  London  are  being  left  behind,  and  these 
bright  green  quiet  fields  of  Middlesex  are  succeeding 
one  another  like  lightning.  So  we  have  passed  London 
— no  one  can  tell  when  again  I  may  revisit  it;— and 
foreign  parts,  having  now  all  London  between  me  and 
them,  are  sunk  away  into  an  unreality,  while  Ru^fby 
and  Fox  How  are  growing  very  substantial.  We  are 
now  just  at  Harrow;  and  here  too  harvest,  I  see,  has 
begun.  And  now  we  are  in  Hertfordshire,  crossing  the 
valley  of  the  Coin  at  Watford.  Watford  station  5.54. 
Left  it  5.50.  Tring  station  0.28.  Left  it  0.30.  And 
now  we  are  descending  the  chalk  escarpment,  and 
it  may  be  some  time  before  I  set  my  eyes  upon  chalk 
Again.  Here,  too,  in  Buckinghamshire  I  see  that  the 
harvest  is  begun.  Leighton  Buzzard  station  0.4^. 
Left  it  0.51.  This  speed  is  marvellous,  for  we  have 
not  yet  been  two  hours  on  our  journey,  and  here  we  are 
in  the  very  bowels  of  the  kingdom,  above  110  miles 
from  Dover,  and  not  quite  240  from  you,  my  boys. 
Here  is  the  iron  sand,  and  we  shall  soon  come  upon 
our  old  friend  the  Oolite.  The  country  looks  delicious 
under  the  evening  sun,  so  green  and  rich  and  peaceful. 
Wolverton  station  and  the  food  7.15.  Left  it  7.27. 
Blisworth  station  7.53.  Left  it  7.56.  And  now  we 
are  fairly  in  Northamptonshire,  and  in  our  own  Rugby 


^^i-'i.V^ 


y-s)i 


'^^':''L:- 


1-^6 


TRAVELLING  JOURNALS  IN  ENGLAND. 


country  in  a  manner,  because  we  come  here  on  the 
Kingsthorpe  clay. 

Auirust  0,  IMO. 

30.  Left  Milntborpe  6.21.  My  last  day *8  journal,  I 
hope,  dearest,  and  then  the  faithful  inkstand  which  has 
daily  hung  at  my  button  hole  may  retire  to  his  deserved 
rest.  Our  tea  last  night  was  incomparable  ;  such  ham, 
such  bread  and  butter,  such  cake,  and  then  came  this 
morning  a  charge  of  4s.  Grf.  for  our  joint  bed  and 
board  ;  when  those  scoundrels  in  Italy,  whose  very  life 
is  roguery,  used  to  charge  double  and  triple  for  their 
dog  fare  and  filthy  rooms.  Bear  witness  Capua,  and 
that  vile  Swiss-Italian  woman  whom  I  could  wish  to 
have  been  in  Capua  (Casilinum)  when  Hannibal  be- 
sieged it,  and  when  she  must  either  have  eaten  her 
shoes,  or  been  eaten  herself  bv  some  neij'hbour,  if  she 
had  not  been  too  tough  and  indigestible.  But,  dearest, 
there  are  other  thoughts  within  me  as  I  look  out  on 
this  delicious  valley  (we  are  going  down  to  Levens)  on 
this  Sunday  morning.  How  calm  and  beautiful  is 
everything,  and  here,  as  we  know,  how  little  marred  by 
any  extreme  poverty.  And  yet  do  these  hills  and 
valleys,  any  more  than  tli  -f  the  Apennines,  send 
up  an  acceptable  incense  ?  Both  do  as  far  as  nature  is 
concerned — our  softer  glory  and  that  loftier  gloiy  each 
in  their  kind  render  their  homage,  and  God's  work  so 
far  is  still  very  good.  But  with  our  just  laws  and  pure 
faith,  and  here  with  a  wholesome  state  of  property 
besides,  is  there  yet  the  Kingdom  of  God  here  any 
more  than  in  Italy?  How  can  there  be?  For  the 
Kingdom  of  God  is  the  perfect  development  of  the 


TRAVKLUNO   JOURNALS    IN    ENGLAND. 


IS 


Church  of  God :  and  when   Priestcraft  destroyed  the 
Church,  the  Kingdom  of  God  became  an  impossibihty. 
We  have  now  entered  the  Winster  Valley,  and  are  got 
precisely  to  our  own  slates  again,  which  we  left  yester- 
day week  in  the  Vosges.     The  strawberries  and  rasp- 
berries hang  red  to  the  sight  by  the  road-side ;  and  the 
turf  and   flowers   are    more    delicately  beautiful   than 
anything  which  I  have  seen  abroad.     The  mountains, 
too,  are  in  their  softest  haze;  I  have  seen  Old  Man 
and  the  Langdale  Pikes  rising  behind  the  nearer  hills 
most  beautifully.     We  have  just  opened  on  Winder- 
mere, and  vain  it  is  to  talk  of  any  earthly  beauty  ever 
equalling  tliis  country  in  my  eyes ;  when,  mingling  with 
ever}^  form  and  sound  and  fragrance,  comes  the  full 
thought  of  domestic  alTections,  aud  of  national,  and  of 
Christian  ;  here  is  our  own  house  and  home — here  are 
our  own  country's  laws  and  language— and  here  is  our 
Englibh  Church.     No  Mola  di  Gaeta,  no  valley  of  the 
Velino,  no  Salerno  or  Vietri,  no  Laao  di  Pie  di  Luc»o 
can  nval  to  me  this  vale  of  Windermere,  aud  of  the 
Fiotha.    And  here  it  lies  in  the  perfection  of  its  beauty, 
the  deep  shadows  on  the  uuruflled   water— the  haze 
investing   Fairfield   with   everything  solemn  and   un- 
defined.    Arrived  at  Bowness  8.20.     Left  it  at  8.31. 
Passing  Bagrigg  Gate  8.37.    On  the  Bowness  Terrace 
8.45.     Over  Troutbeck  Bridge  8.51.     Here  is  Eccle- 
rigg  8.58.      And  here  Lowood   Inn  9.4^.     And  here 
Waterhead  and  our  ducking  bench  9.12.     The  valley 
opens— Ambleside,  and  Rydal  Park,  aud  tlie  gallery  on 
Loughrigg.      Botha  Bridge   9.10.     And   here   is   the 
poor  humbled  Rotha,  and  Mr.  Braucker's  cut,  and  the 
New  Millar  Bridge  9.21.     Alas!  for  the  alders  gone 


^ii 


..■';*  ■&«■■/ 


^v.'fvatti^.^-  --Je*,,^ 


■  ^^"^^''■ 


1Q8      TRAVELLING   JOURNALS    IN    SOUTH    OF    FRANCE. 

and  succeeded  by  a  stiff  wall.  Here  is  the  Hotlia  in  his 
own  beauty,  and  here  is  poor  T.  Flemmings  Field,  and 
our  own  mended  gate.  Dearest  children,  may  we  meet 
happily.  Entered  FOX  HOW,  and  the  birch  copse 
at  0.t>5,  and  here  ends  journal. — Walter  first  saw  us, 
and  gave  notice  of  our  approach.  We  found  all  our 
dear  cliildren  well,  and  Fox  How  in  such  beauty,  that 
no  scene  in  Italy  app(\ar(  d  in  my  eyes  comparable  to  it. 
We  breakfasted,  and  at  a  quarter  before  eleven,  I  had 
the  happiness  of  once  more  going  to  an  English 
Church,  and  that  Church  our  own  beloved  llydal 
Chapel. 


XI.  Tour  in  South  of  France. 

Juljr  -1,  mi. 

1.  I  have  been  reading  Bunsen's  Liturgy  for  the 
Holy  or  Passion  Week,  with  his  Introduction.  He  has 
spoken  out  many  truths  which  to  the  wretched  theology 
of  our  schools  would  be  stirtling  and  shocking;  but 
they  are  not  hard  truths,  but  real  Christian  truths 
spoken  in  love,  such  as  St.  Paul  spoke,  and  was  called 
profane  by  the  .fudaizers  for  doing  so.  It  will  be  a 
wonderful  day  when  the  light  breaks  in  upon  our  High 
Churchmen  and  Evangelicals :  how  many  it  will  dazzle 
and  how  many  it  will  enlighten,  God  only  knows :  but 
it  will  be  felt,  and  the  darkness  will  be  broken  up 
before  it. 

Rptwpen  Angoult-niP  and  nordcaux.  July  7,  IWI. 

2.  Left  Barbiceaux  10.35,  verj'  rich  and  beautiful 
It  is  not  properly  southern,  for  there  are  neither  olives 


TKAVELLINO   JOURNALS   IN    SOUTH    OF   FRANCE.       IQO 

nor  figs:  nor  is  it  northern,  for  the  vines  and  maize  are 
luxuriant.  It  is  properly  France,  with  its  wide  land- 
scapes, no  mountains,  but  slopes  and  hills ;  its  luminous 
air,  its  spread  of  cultivation,  with  the  vines  and  maize 
and  walnuts,  mixed  with  the  ripe  corn,  as  brilliant  in 
colouring  as  it  is  rich  in  its  associations.  T  never  saw 
a  brighter  or  a  fresher  landscape.  Green  hedges  line 
the  road;  the  hay,  just  cut,  is  fragrant;  everything  is 
really  splendid  for  man's  physical  well-being:— it  is 
Kent  six  degrees  nearer  the  sun.  Nor  are  there 
wanting  church  towers  enough  to  sanctify  the  scene,  if 
one  couM  believe  that  with  the  stone  church  there  was 
also  the  living  Church,  and  not  the  accursed  Priestcraft. 
But.  alas  I  a  Priest  is  not  a  Church,  but  that  which 
renders  a  Church  impossible. 

July  10,  IJMl, 

^ ^  fiud  that  the  dialect  here  is  not  Basque 

after  all,  but  Gascon,  that  is,  merely  a  Lingua  Eomana, 
more  or  less  differing  from  the  northern  French.  I 
fancied  that  I  could  understand  some  of  the  words, 
which  I  certainly  could  not  have  done  in  Basque.  The 
postmaster  of  S.  Paul  les  Dax,  a  good-humoured 
loquacious  old  gentleman,  told  me  that  ♦'  une  femme  " 
in  their  patois  was  **  une  Henne,"  a  curious  instance  of 
the  H  taking  the  place  of  the  F,  as  in  Spanish,  Hijo 
for  Filius.  Close  by  the  last  post  we  saw  the  church 
spire  of  Pony,  the  native  place  of  Vincentius  of  Paula, 
a  man  worthy  of  all  memory.  I  have  just  seen  the 
PvRKNKEs,  lowering  down  towards  the  sea,  but  with 
ver>^  high  mountains  to  the  left  or  eastward :  we  should 
Imve  seen  more  of  them  if  it  had  not  been  for  the 

E 


»■?* 


:PsV^^W^W^. 


pyi~  k 


SSi 


130      TRAVELLING   JOURNALS    IN    SOUTH    OF    FRANCE. 

clouds,  which  are  still  dark  and  black  to  the  southward. 
These  are  the  first  mouutains  that  I  have  seen  since  I 
last  saw  our  own:  between  Westmoreland  and  the 
Pyrenees  there  are  none.  The  near  country  is  still  the 
same,  but  less  of  the  pine  forest. 

St  Jean  dc  Luz,  July  11,  IMl. 

4.  It  is  this  very  day  year  that  we  were  at  Mola  di 
Gaeta  together,  and  I  do  not  suppose  it  possible  to 
conceive  a  greater  contrast  than  ^lola  di  Gaeta  on  the 
11th  of  July,  1840,  and  S.  Jean  de  Luz  on  the  11th 
of  July,  1841.  The  lake-like  calm  of  that  sea,  and 
the  howling  fury  of  this  ocean, — the  trees  few  and 
meagre,  shivering  from  the  bhist  of  the  Atlantic,  and 
the  umbrageous  bed  of  oranges,  peaches,  and  pome- 
granates, which  there  deliglited  in  the  freshness  of  that 
gentle  water ; — the  clear  sky  and  bright  moon,  and  the 
dark  mass  of  clouds  and  drizzle, — the  remains  of 
Koman  palaces  and  the  fabled  scene  of  Homer  s  poetry, 
and  a  petty  French  fishing  town,  with  its  coasting 
Chasse-Marees :  these  are  some  of  the  points  of  the 
contrast.  Yet  those  vile  Italians  are  the  refuse  of  the 
Roman  slaves,  crossed  by  a  thousand  conquests ;  aud 
these  Basques  are  the  ver}-  primeval  Iberians,  who  were 
the  most  warlike  of  the  nations  of  the  West,  before  the 
Kelts  had  ever  come  near  the  shores  of  the  Mediterra- 
nean. And  the  little  pier,  which  I  have  been  just 
looking  at,  was  the  spot  where  Sir  Charles  Penrose 
found  the  Duke  of  Wellington  alone  at  the  dead  of 
night,  when,  anxious  about  tlie  weather  for  the  passage 
of  the  Adour,  he  wished  to  obser\'e  its  earliest  signs 
before  other  men  had  left  their  beds. 


TRAVELLING   JOURNALS   IK   SOUTH   OF    FRANCE.       131 

July  12,  IWl. 

5.  First  View  of  SpAiN.-^ust  out  of  Irun,  sitting 
on  a  stone  by  the  road-side.    We  have  left  our  carriage 
in  France,  and  walked  over  the  Bidassoa  to  Irun,  which 
is  about  a  mile  and  a  half  from  the  bridge.     We  went 
through  the  iovm,  and  out  of  it  to  some  high  ground, 
where  we  had  the  old  panorama.     The  views  on  every 
side  are  magnificent.     There  is  the  mouth  of  the  Bi- 
dassoa, Fontarabia  on   one  side  and  Audaye  on   the 
other;  and  the  sea  blue  now  like  the  Mediternmean. 
Then  on  the  other  side  are  the  mountains :  San  Marcial 
on  its  rocky   summit,   and   the   adjoining   mountains 
with  their  sides  perfectly  green,  deep-wooded  combes, 
fern  and  turf  on  the  slopes,  mingled,  as  in  our  own 
mountains,  with   crags   and   cliffs.     And  just   now  I 
saw  a  silver   stream   falling   down  in  a  deep-wooded 
ghyll  to  complete  tlie  likeness.     Around  me  are  the 
crops  of  maize,  and  here   too  are  houses  scattered 
over   the  country,   but  less   neat-looking,   and   fewer 
than  in  France.     For  the  town  itself,  I  shall  speak  of 
it  hereafter. 

Biobi.— We  are  just  returned  from  Spain,  and 
Hie  again  seated  in  our  carriage  to  return  to  Bayonne. 
Now  what  have  I  seen  in  Spain  worth  notice  ?  The 
very  instant  that  we  crossed  the  Bidassoa,  the  road, 
which  in  France  is  perfect,  became  utterly  bad,  and 
the  street  of  Irun  itself  was  intolerable.     The  town 

*         *  *  ^ 

m  Its  style  of  building,  resembled  the  worst  towns  of 
teutral  Italy;  the  galleries  on  the  outside  of  the 
houses,  the  overhanging  roofs,  and  the  absence  of  glass. 
It  stnkes  me  that  if  this  same  style  prevails  both 
in  Spam  and   Italy,  where  modem  improvement  has 

K  2 


18-2   TRAVELLING  JOURNALS  IN  SOUTH  OF  FRANCE. 

not  readied,  it  must  be  of  very  great  antiquity; 
derived,  perhaps,  iVoni  the  lime  when  both  countries 
were  united  under  a  common  Government,  the  Roman : 
unless  it  is  to  be  traced  to  tlie  Spanish  ascentlancv 
in  Italy,  which  indeed  it  may  be.  Behind  Irun, 
towards  the  interior,  are  two  sugar-loaf  mountains 
very  remarkable.  The  hill  sides  are  all  covered  with 
dwarf  oaks,  not  ilex,  which  look,  at  a  distance,  like 
the  apple-trees  of  Picardy,  with  just  that  rouii^i 
cabbage-like  head. 

6.  Geography  of  Spain. 

From  the  IlUtory  of  Rmne.  vol.  ill.  p.  .ii)l. 

**  The  Spanish  peninsula,  joined  to  the  main  body 
of  Europe  by  the  isthmus  of  the  Pyrenees,  may  be 
likened  to  one  of  the  round  bastion  towers  which 
stand  out  from  the  walls  of  an  old  fortified  town,  lofty 
at  once  and  massy.  Spain  rises  from  the  Atlantic 
on  one  side,  and  the  Mediterranean  on  the  other, 
not  into  one  or  two  thin  lines  of  mountains  divided 
by  vast  tracts  of  valleys  or  low  plains,  but  into  a 
huge  tower,  as  I  have  called  it,  of  table-land,  from 
which  the  mountains    themselves  ris<  n    like  tlie 

battlements  on  tlie  summit.  The  plains  of  Castile 
are  mountain  pbiins,  raised  nearly  2000  feet  above 
the  level  of  the  sea;  and  the  elevation  of  the  city 
of  Madrid  is  nearly  double  that  of  the  top  of 
Arthur's  seat,  the  hill  or  mountain  which  overhangs 
Edinburgh.  Accordingly  the  centre  of  Spain,  not- 
withstiinding  its  genial  latitude,  only  partially  enjoys 
the  temperature  of  a  southern  climate;  while  some 
of  the  valleys  of   Andalusia,  which  lie  near  the  sea. 


TRAVELLING  JOURNALS  IN  SOUTH  OF  FRANCE.   133 

present  the  vegetation  of  the  tropics,  the  palm  tree, 
the  banana,  and  the  sugar  cane.  Thus  the  southem 
coast  seemed  to  invite  an  early  civilization;  while 
the  interior,  with  its  bleak  and  arid  plains,  was  fitted 
to  remain  for  centuries  the  stronghold  of  bajbarism." 


Near  Agen,  July  14. 

7.  For  some  time  past  the  road  has  been  a  terrace 
above  the  lower  bank  of  the  Garonne,  which  is  flowing 
in  great  breadth  and  majesty  below  us 

From  these  heights,  in  clear  weather,  you  can  see 
the   Pyrenees,   but  now  the  clouds  hang  darkly  over 

^^6'!^ One   thing    1   should    have   noticed 

of  Agen,  that  it  is  the  birth-place  of  Joseph  Scaliger, 
iu  some  respects  the  Niebuhr  of  the  seventeenth 
century,  but  rather  the  Bentley:  morally  far  below 
Niebuhr;  and  though,  like  Bentlev,  almost  rivalling 
lum  in  acutene.ss,  and  approaching  somewhat  to  him  in 
knowledge,  yet  altogether  without  his  wisdom. 

Audi,  July  14,  IWl. 

H.  At  supper,  we  were  reading  a  Paris  paper,  Le 
Siecle;  but  the  one  thing  which  stnick  me,  and 
rejoiced  my  very  heart,  was  an  advertisement  iu  it 
of  a  most  conspicuous  kind,  and  in  very  large  letters, 
of  La  Sainte  I3ible,  announcing  an  edition,  in  iium- 
hei  De  Sacy's   French   translation  of  it.     I  ran 

conceive  nothing  but  good  from  such  a  thing.  May 
God  prosper  it  to  His  glory,  and  the  salvation  of  souls  ; 
It  was  a  joyful  and  a  blessed  sight  to  see  it. 


ttl'^fHJ'"    --..^. 


Mf^-. 


%■"  ^. 


Vs    i~     .  ." 


p^'i* 


"-s>'¥: 


■'S''«" 


134      TRAVELUKG   JOURNALS   IN   SOUTH    OF   FRANCE. 

Bourses,  July  is. 

9 We  found  the  afternoon  senice  going 

on  at  the  Cathedral,  and  the  Archbishop,  with  his 
priests  and  the  choristers,  were  going  round  the 
church  in  procession,  chaunting  some  of  their  hymns, 
and  with  a  great  multitude  of  people  following  them. 
The  effect  was  very  fine,  and  I  again  lamented  our 
neglect  of  our  cathedrals,  and  the  absurd  confusion  in 
so  many  men's  minds  between  what  is  really  Popery 
and  what  is  but  wisdom  and  beauty,  adopted  by  the 
Roman  Catholics  and  neglected  by  us. 

Paris,  July  yo,  iwi, 

10.  I  have  been  observing  the  people  in  the  streets 
very  carefully,  and  their  general  expression  is  not 
agreeable,  that  of  the  young  men  especially.  The 
newspapers  seem  all  gone  mad  together,  and  these 
disturbances  at  Toulouse  are  very  sad  and  unsatis- 
factor}'.  If  that  advertisement  which  I  saw  about 
La  Sainte  Bible  be  found  to  answer,  that  would  be 
the  great  specific  for  France.  And  what  are  our  pros- 
pects at  home  with  the  Toiy  Goveniment?  and  how 
long  will  it  be  before  Chartism  again  forces  itself 
upon  our  notice?  So  where  is  the  hope,  humanly 
speaking,  of  things  bettering,  or  are  the  9^oifxo\  and 
XifjLol,  croX«|Lio»  and  axoa»  roXi^wv,  ready  to  herald  a  new 
advent  of  the  Lord  to  judgment?  The  questions  con- 
cerning our  state  appeal'  to  me  so  perplexing,  that  I 
cannot  even  in  theory  see  their  solution.  We  liave  not 
and  cannot  yet  solve  the  problem,  how  the  happiness 
of  mankind  is  reconcilable  with  the  necessity  of  pain- 


TRAVEIXING   JOURNALS   IN    SOUTn    OF    FRANCE.       135 

ful  labour.  The  happiness  of  a  part  can  be  secured 
easily  enough,  their  ease  being  pro\ided  for  by  others' 
labour;  but  how  can  the  happiness  of  the  generality 
be  secured,  who  must  labour  of  necessity  painfully? 
How  can  he  who  labours  hard  for  his  daily  bread — 
hardly,  and  with  doubtful  success  —  be  made  wise 
and  good,  and  therefore  how  can  he  be  made  happy  ? 
This  question  undoubtedly  the  Church  was  meant 
to  solve ;  for  Christ's  Kingdom  was  to  undo  the  evil 
of  Adam's  sin;  but  the  Church  has  not  solved  it, 
nor  attempted  to  do  so;  and  no  one  else  has  gone 
about  it  rightly.  This  is  the  great  bar  to  education. 
How  can  a  poor  man  find  time  to  be  educated  ?  You 
may  establish  schools,  but  he  will  not  have  time 
to  attend  them,  for  a  few  years  of  early  boyhood  are 
no  more  enough  to  give  education,  than  the  spring 
months  can  do  the  summer's  work  when  the  summer  is 
all  cold  and  rainy.  But  I  must  go  to  bed  and  try 
to  get  home  to  you  and  to  work,  for  there  is  great  need 
of  working.  God  bless  you,  my  dearest  wife,  with  all 
our  darlings. 

Boulogne,  July  23,  1841. 

11.  Our  tour  is  ended,  and  I  grieve  to  say  that 
it  has  left  on  my  mind  a  more  unfavourable  impression 
of  France  than  I  have  been  wont  to  feel.  I  do  not 
doubt  the  great  mass  of  good  which  must  exist, 
but  the  active  elements,  those,  at  least,  which  are 
on  the  surface,  seem  to  be  working  for  evil.  The 
virulence  of  the  newspapers  against  England  is,  I 
think,  a  very  bad  omen,  and  the  worship  which  the 
people   seem   to   pay  to    Napoleon's   memory  is   also 


^^■.h..tc 


■S 


^jwi 


Sir*' 


m 


S.t  if . 


t^MtigfrnMsi^^^^Smi^..., 


.V »   f. 


•j.-V.-'t 


^^F' 
'^^^f^ 


^^"SSPfif^tlS-i 


V;;^.,-:.  v^^'^^iOi;; 


]3G   TRAVELLING  JOURNALS  IN  SOUTH  OF  FRANCE. 

deeply  to  be  regretted.  But  it  is  the  misfortune  of 
France  that  her  "  past "  cannot  be  loved  or  respected ; 
her  future  and  her  present  cannot  be  wedded  to  it; 
yet  how  can  the  present  yield  fruit,  or  the  future  liave 
promise,  except  their  roots  be  fixed  in  the  past?  The 
evil  is  infinite,  but  the  blame  rests  with  those  who 
made  the  past  a  dead  thing,  out  of  which  no  healthful 

life  could  be  produced 

......  Much  as  I  like  coming  abroad,  I  am  never 

for  an  instant  tempted  to  live  abroad;  not  even  in 
Germany,  where  assuredly  I  would  settle,  if  I  were 
obliged  to  quit  England.  But  not  the  strongest  Ton- 
er Conservative  values  our  Church  or  Law  more  than 
I  do,  or  would  find  life  less  liveable  without  them. 
Indeed  it  is  very  hard  to  me  to  think  that  those 
can  value  either  who  can  see  their  defects  with  indif- 
ference:  or  that  those  can  value  tliem  worthily,  tliiit 
is,  can  appreciate  their  idea,  who  do  not  see  wherein 
they  fall  short  of  their  idea.  And  now  I  close  this 
Journal  for  the  present,  praying  that  God  may  bless  us, 
and  keep  us  in  worldly  good  or  evil  in  Himself  and  iu 
His  Son.     Amen. 


EXTRACTS 


FBUM  TUB 


LIFE    AND    LETTERS. 


EDUCATION. 


It  has  been  thought  that  the  following  Extracts, 
as  expressions  of  Br.  Arnold's  general  views  on  the 
subjects  in  which  he  took  most  interest,  \ni11  form  a 
fitting  accompaniment  to  the  Journals. 


Private  Tutors. 

1«31.    Life,  p.  27. 

I.  Private  Tuition. — I  know  it  has  a  bad  name,  but 
my  wife  and  I  always  happened  to  be  fond  of  it,  and  if 
I  were  to  leave  Rugby  for  no  demerit  of  my  own,  I 
would  take  to  it  again  with  all  the  pleasure  in  life.  I 
enjoyed,  and  do  enjoy,  the  society  of  youths  of  seven- 
teen or  eighteen,  for  they  are  all  alive  iu  limbs  and 
spirits  at  least,  if  not  in  mind,  while  in  older  persons  the 
body  and  spirits  often  become  lazy  and  languid  without 
the  mind  gaining  any  vigour  to  compensate  for  it.  Do 
not  take  your  work  as  a  dose,  and  I  do  not  think  you 
will  find  it  nauseous.  I  am  sure  you  will  not,  if  your 
wife  does  not,  and  if  she  is  a  sensible  woman,  she  will 
not  either  if  you  do  not.  The  misery  of  private 
tuition  seems  to  me  to  consist  in  this,  that  men  enter 
upon  it  as  a  means  to  some  further  end ;  are  always 
impatient  for  the  time  when  they  may  lay  it  aside; 
whereas  if  you  enter  upon  it  heartily  as  your  life's 
business,  as  a  man  enters  upon  any  other  profession, 
you  are  not  then  in  danger  of  grudging  every  hour  you 
give  to  it,  and  thinking  of  how  much  privacy  and  how 
much  society  it  is  robbing  you ;  but  you  take  to  it  as  a 


*.-.  i'.-AJ** 


a2'    ■ 

lis, 


...    •  it 


r       ^i^-rSS-TR-E^V"?*"*'-      ' 


tsMskaiiiaiJiiii '  ii.>.<*aa««.:iiiii^fiS#iss!as\aa3Jes.!^^  ' 


fWwr^'*'-/'^^'  ^^'■'^  '?.."?ii^  ■r^^^^^^sas^^^ 


140         EXTRACTS    FROM   THE   LIFE   AND   LETTERS. 

matter  of  coarse,  making  it  your  material  occupation, 
and  devote  your  time  to  it,  and  tlien  you  find  that  it  is 
in  itself  full  of  interest,  and  keeps  life's  current  fresh 
and  wholesome  by  bringing  you  in  such  perpetual 
contact  with  all  the  spring  of  youthful  liveliness.  I 
should  say,  have  your  pupils  a  good  deal  with  you,  and 
be  as  familiar  with  them  as  you  possibly  can.  I  did 
this  continually  more  and  more  before  I  left  Laleham, 
going  to  bathe  with  them,  leaping  and  all  other 
gymnastic  exercises  within  my  cnpacity,  and  sometime> 
sailing  or  rowing  with  them.  They  I  believe  alwnv^ 
liked  it,  and  I  enjoyed  it  myself  like  a  boy,  and  found 
myself  constantly  the  better  for  it. 

1839.    Life,  p.  473, 

52.  You  need  not  think  that  your  own  rcadinj?  will 
now  have  no  object,  because  you  are  engaged  with  youiij: 
boys.  Every  improvement  of  your  own  powei-s  uiul 
knowledge,  tells  immediately  upon  them ;  and  indeed  I 
hold  that  a  man  is  only  fit  to  teach  so  long  as  he  is 
himself  learning  daily.  If  the  mind  once  becomes 
stagnant,  it  can  give  no  fresh  draught  to  another  mind ; 
it  is  drinking  out  of  a  pond,  instead  of  from  a  spring. 
And  whatever  you  read  tends  generally  to  your  own 
increase  of  power,  and  will  be  felt  by  you  in  a  hundred 
ways  hereafter, 

3.  Qualifications  for  a  Teacher. 

l«w.    Life,  p.  U2. 

For  nineteen  out  of  twenty  boys,  ordinary  men  may 
be  quite  sufficient,  but  the  twentieth,  the  boy  of  real 
talents,  who  is  more  important  than  the  others,  is  liahle 


ON   EDUCATION. 


141 


even  to  suffer  injury  from  not  being  early  placed  under 
the  training  of  one  whom  he  can,  on  close  inspection, 
look  up  to  as  his  superior  in  something  besides  mere 
knowledge.  The  dangei-s  are  of  various  kinds.  One 
boy  may  acquire  a  contempt  for  the  information  itself, 
which  he  sees  possessed  by  a  man  whom  he  feels 
nevertheless  to  be  far  below  him.  Another  will  fancy 
himself  as  much  above  nearly  all  the  world  as  he  feels 
be  is  above  his  own  tutor ;  and  will  become  self-suffi- 
cient and  scornful.  A  third  will  believe  it  to  be  his 
duty,  as  a  point  of  humility,  to  bring  himself  down 
intellectuully  to  a  level  with  one  whom  he  feels  bound 
to  reverence,  and  thus  there  have  been  instances, 
where  the  veneration  of  a  young  man  of  ability  for  a 
teacher  of  small  powers  has  been  like  a  millstone  round 
the  neck  of  an  eagle. 

IWO.    Life,  p.  rm. 

4.  It  was  a  wise  injunction  to  Timothy,  "  to  be  instant 
in  season  and  out  of  season,"  because  we  so  often  fancy 
that  a  word  would  be  out  of  season  when  it  would  in 
fact  be  seasonable.  And  I  believe  I  often  say  too  little 
from  a  dread  of  saying  too  much.  Here,  as  in  secular] 
knowledge,  he  is  the  best  teacher  of  others  who  is  best 
taught  himself;  that  which  we  know  and  love  we  cannot 
hnt  communicate  ;  that  which  we  know  and  do  not  love 
^^   oun,  I  think,  cease  to  know. 

5.  Qualifications  for  a  Schoolmaster. 

I««.    Life,  p.  IHO. 

I  trust,  I  feel  how  great  and  solemn  a  duty  I  have  to 
fulfd,  and  that  I  shall  be  enabled  to  fulfil   it  by  that 


■'J 


Jf^A 


\^ 


142         EXTRACTS    FROM    THE    LIFE    AND    LETTEB8. 

help  which  can  alone  give  the  *'  Spirit  of  power  and 
love,  and  of  a  sound  mind ; "  the  three  great  requisites, 
I  imagine,  in  a  schoolmaster. 

1630.    Life,  p.  M. 

0.  The  qualitications  which  I  deem  essential  to  the 
due  performance  of  a  master's  duties  here  may,  in  brief, 
be  expressed  as  the  spirit  of  a  Christian,  and  a  gentle- 
man,— that  a  man  should  enter  upon  his  business  not  W 
ra^f'^yoy,  but  as  a  Substantive  and  most  important  duty ; 
that  he  should  devote  himself  to  it  as  the  especial  branch 
of  the  ministerial  calling  which  he  has  chosen  to  follow 
— that  belonging  to  a  great  public  institution,  and  stand- 
ing in  a  public  and  conspicuous  situation,  he  should 
study  things  *'  lovely  and  of  good  report ;  '  that  is,  that 
he  should  be  public-spirited,  liberal,  and  entering 
heartily  into  the  interest,  honour,  and  general  respect- 
ability and  distinction  of  the  society  which  he  has 
joined;  and  that  he  should  have  sufficient  vigour  of 
mind  and  thirst  for  knowledge,  to  persist  in  adding  to 
his  own  stores  without  neglecting  the  full  improvement 
of  those  whom  he  is  teaching. 


ON  EDUCATION. 


143 


Life,  p.  498. 

7.  Liveliness  seems  to  me  an  essential  condition  of 
sympathy  with  creatures  so  lively  as  boys  are  naturally, 
and  it  is  a  great  matter  to  make  them  understand  that 
liveliness  is  not  folly  or  thoughtlessness.  Now  I  think 
the  prevailing  manner  amongst  many  very  valuable 
men  at  Oxford  is  the  very  opposite  to  liveliness;  not 
at  all  from  affectation,  but  from  natural  temper,  en- 
couraged, perhaps,  rather  than  checked,  by  a  belief  that 
it  is  right  and  becoming.     But  this  appears  to  me  to 


be  in  point  of  manner  the  great  difference  between  a 
clerg)'man  with  a  parish  and  a  schoolmaster.  It  is  an 
illustration  of  St.  Paul's  rule,  *'  Rejoice  with  them  that 
rejoice,  and  weep  with  them  that  weep."  A  clergyman's 
intercourse  is  very  much  with  the  sick  and  the  poor, 
where  liveliness  would  be  greatly  misplaced;  but  a 
schoolmasters  is  with  the  young,  the  strong,  and  the 
happy,  and  he  cannot  get  on  with  them  unless  in 
animal  spirits  he  can  sympathize  with  them,  and  show 
them  that  his  though tfuln ess  is  not  connected  with 
selfishness  and  weakness.  At  least,  tliis  applies,  I 
think,  to  a  young  man ;  for  when  a  teacher  gets  to  an 
advanced  age,  gravity,  I  suppose,  would  not  misbecome 
him,  for  liveliness  might  then  seem  unnatural,  and  his 
sympathy  with  boys  must  be  limited,  I  suppose,  then,  to 
their  great  interests  rather  than  their  feelings. 

8.  Difficulties  of  Public  Schools. 

1830.    Life,  p.  213. 

It  is  quite  awful  to  watch  the  strength  of  evil  in 
such  young  minds,  and  how  powerless  is  every  effort 
against  it  It  would  give  the  vainest  man  alive  a  very 
fair  notion  of  his  own  insufficiency,  to  see  how  little  he 
can  do,  and  how  his  most  earnest  addresses  are  as  a 
cannon  ball  on  a  bolster ;  thorough  careless  unimpres- 
sibleness  beats  one  all  to  pieces.  And  so  it  is,  and  so 
it  will  be ;  and,  as  far  as  I  am  concerned,  I  can  quite 
say  that  it  is  much  better  that  it  should  be  so ;  for  it 
would  be  too  kindling,  could  one  perceive  these  young 
minds  really  led  from  evil  by  one's  own  efforts ;  one 
would  be  sorely  tempted  to  bow  down  to  one's  onnti 
net. 


"i-'^.'? 


I.»«i^S 


■ShW  " 


!*:'■■,. 


ifi- 


144         EXTRACTS    FROM    THE   LIFE   AND    LETTERS. 

1838.    Lifp,  i>.  ..... 

9.  A  public  school  never  can  present  images  of  rest 
and  peace ;  and  when  the  spring  and  activity  of  youth 
is  altogether  unsanctified  by  anything  pure  and  elevated 
in  its  desires,  it  becomes  a  spectacle  that  is  as  dizzying 
and  almost  more  morally  distressing  than  the  shouts 
and  gambols  of  a  set  of  lunatics.  It  is  very  startling 
to  see  so  much  of  sin  combined  with  so  little  of  sor- 
row. In  a  parish,  amongst  the  poor,  whatever  of  sin 
exists,  there  is  sure  also  to  be  enough  of  suffering: 
poverty,  sickness,  and  old  age  are  mighty  tamers  and 
chastisers.  But,  with  boys  of  the  richer  classes,  one 
sees  nothing  but  plenty,  health,  and  youth  ;  and  these 
are  really  awful  to  behold,  when  one  must  feel  that 
they  are  unblessed.  On  the  other  hand,  few  things 
are  more  beautiful,  than  when  one  does  see  all  holv 
and  noble  thoughts  and  principles,  not  the  forced 
growth  of  pain  or  infirmity  or  privation  ;  but  springing 
up  as  by  God's  immediate  planting,  in  a  sort  of  garden 
of  all  that  is  fresh  and  beautiful ;  full  of  so  much  hope 
for  this  world  as  well  as  for  Heaven. 

UM.    life,  p.  137. 

10.  I  have  just  had  some  of  the  troubles  of  school 
keeping ;  and  one  of  those  specimens  of  the  evil  of  boy- 
nature,  which  makes  me  always  unwilling  to  undergo 
the  responsibility  of  advising  any  man  to  send  his  son 
to  a  public  school.  There  has  been  a  system  of  perse- 
cution carried  on  by  the  bad  against  the  good,  and  then, 
when  complaint  was  made  to  me,  there  came  fresh  i 
secution  on  that  very  account ;  and  divers  instances  of 
boys  joining  in  it  out  of  pure  cowardice,  both  physical 
and  moral,  when  if  left  to  themselves  they  would  have 


ON   EDUCATION. 


145 


rather  shunned  it.  And  the  exceedingly  small  number 
of  boys,  who  can  be  relied  on  for  active  and  steady  good 
on  these  occasions,  and  the  way  in  which  the  decent 
and  respectable  of  ordinary  life  (Carlyle's  ♦'  Shams  ") 
are  sure  on  these  occasions  to  swim  with  the  stream, 
and  take  part  with  the  evil,  makes  me  strongly  feel 
exemplified  what  the  Scripture  says  about  the  straight 
gate  and  the  wide  one, — a  view  of  human  nature,  which, 
when  looking  on  human  life  in  its  full  dress  of  decen- 
cies and  civilisation^,  we  are  apt,  I  imagine,  to  find  it 
hard  to  realize.  But  here,  in  the  nakedness  of  boy- 
nature,  one  is  quite  able  to  understand  how  there  could 
not  be  found  so  many  as  even  ten  righteous  in  a  whole 
city.  And  how  to  meet  this  evil  I  really  do  not  know ; 
but  to  find  it  thus  rife  after  I  have  been  so  many  years 
fighting  against  it  is  so  sickening,  that  it  is  very  hard 
not  to  throw  up  the  cards  in  despair,  and  upset  the 
table.  But  then  the  stars  of  nobleness,  which  I  see 
amidst  the  darkness,  in  the  case  of  the  few  good,  are 
so  cheering,  that  one  is  inclined  to  stick  to  the  ship 
;!u':iin,  and  have  another  good  try  at  getting  her  about. 

1840.    Life,  p.  gs. 

11.  My  own  school  experience  has  taught  me  the 
monstrous  evil  of  a  state  of  low  principle  prevailing 
amongst  those  who  set  the  tone  to  the  rest.  I  can 
neither  theoretically  nor  practically  defend  our  public-  v 
school  system,  where  the  boys  are  left  so  very  much 
alone  to  form  a  distinct  society  of  their  own,  unless 
you  assume  that  the  upper  class  shall  be  capable 
of  being  in  a  manner  fAfcWai  between  the  masters 
and  the  mass  of  the  boys,  that  is,  shall  be  capable 


Ki^-'S-^^ 


^^i^g^i^^^'-^k^'kk 


»??-n' 


i«"f«'.TXf-;,"-" 


'*■■■■-->    J    i 


U6 


EXTRACTS    FROM   THE    LIFE    AND    LETTERS. 


ON    EDUCATION. 


147 


of  receiving  and  transmitting  to  the  rest,  through 
their  example  and  influence,  right  principles  of  con- 
duct, instead  of  tliose  extremely  low  ones  which  are 
natural  to  a  society  of  hoys  left  wholly  to  form  their 
own  standard  of  right  and  wrong.  Now,  when  I  get 
any  in  this  part  of  the  school  who  are  not  to  he 
influenced — who  have  neither  the  will  nor  the  power 
to  influence  others — not  from  heing  intentionally  bad, 
but  from  very  low  wit,  and  extreme  childishness 
or  coarseness  of  character — the  evil  is  so  great,  not 
only  negatively  but  positively,  (for  their  low  and 
false  views  are  greedily  caught  up  by  those  below 
them,)  that  I  know  not  how  to  proceed,  or  how  to 
binder  the  school  from  becoming  a  place  of  education 
for  evil  rather  than  for  good,  except  by  getting  rid 
of  such  persons.  And  then  comes  the  difliculty, 
that  the  parents  who  see  their  sons  only  at  home 
— that  is  just  where  the  points  of  character,  which 
are  so  injurious  here,  are  not  called  into  action — 
can  scarcely  be  brought  to  understand  why  they  should 
remove  them ;  and  having,  as  most  people  have,  only 
the  most  vague  ideas  as  to  the  real  nature  of  a  public 
school,  they  cannot  understand  what  harm  they  are 
receiving  or  doing  to  others,  if  they  do  not  get  into 
some  palpable  scrape,  which  very  likely  they  never 
would  do.  More  puzzling  still  is  it,  when  you  have 
many  boys  of  this  description,  so  that  the  evil  influ- 
ence is  really  very  great,  and  yet  there  is  not  one 
of  the  set  whom  you  would  set  down  as  a  really  bad 
fellow^  if  taken  alone ;  but  most  of  them  would  really 
do  very  well  if  they  were  not  together  and  in  a  situ- 
ation where,  unluckily,  their  age  and  size  leads  them, 


.liol., 


.<'^ 


unavoidably,  to  form  the  laws  and  guide  the  opinion  of 
their  society;  whereas,  they  are  wholly  unfit  to  lead 
others,  and  are  so  slow  at  receiving  good  influences 
themselves,  that  they  want  to  be  almost  exclusively 
with  older  persons,  instead  of  being  principally  with 
younger  ones. 

Study. 

!«:«.    Life,  p.  :J25. 

la.  It  is  a  very  hard  thing,  I  suppuse,  to  read  at  once 
passionately  and  critically,  by  no  means  to  be  cold, 
caption  coring,  or   scofijug;    to   admire   greatness 

and  goodness  with  an  intense  love  and  veneration,  yet 
to  judge  all  things ;  to  be  the  slave  neither  of  names 
nor  of  parties,  and  to  sacrifice  even  the  most  beautiful 
associations  for  the  sake  of  truth.  I  would  say,  as  a 
good  general  rule,  never  read  the  works  of  any  ordinary 
man,  except  on  scientific  matters,  or  when  they  contain 
simple  matters  of  fact.  Even  on  matters  of  fact,  silly 
and  ignorant  men,  however  honest  and  industrious  in 
their  particular  subject,  require  to  be  read  with  con- 
stant watchfulness  and  suspicion  ;  whereas  great  men 
are  always  instructive,  even  amidst  much  of  error  on 
particular  points.  In  general,  however,  I  hold  it  to  be 
certain,  that  the  truth  is  to  be  found  in  the  great  men, 
and  the  error  in  the  little  ones. 

Translation. 

1836.     Life,  p.  .188. 

13.  My  delight  in  going  over  Homer  and  Virgil  with 
the  boys  makes  me  think  what  a  treat  it  must  be  to 
teach  Shakspeare  to  a  good  class  of  young  Greeks  in  re- 

L  2 


A*  V 


<Si&i 


148         EXTRACTS    FROM   THE    LIFE   AND    LETTERS. 

generate  Athens ;  to  dwell  upon  him  line  by  line,  and 
word  by  word,  in  the  way  that  nothing  but  a  translation 
lesson  ever  will  enable  one  to  do  ;  and  so  to  get  all  his 
pictures  and  thoughts  leisurely  into  one's  mind,  till  I 
verily  think  one  would  after  a  time  almost  give  out  li^ht 
in  the  dark,  after  having  been  steeped  as  it  were  in  such 
an  atmosphere  of  brilliance.  And  how  could  this  ever 
be  done  without  having  the  process  of  construing,  as 
the  grosser  medium  through  which  alone  all  the  beauty 
can  he  transmitted,  because  else  we  travel  too  fast,  and 
more  than  half  of  it  escapes  us  ? 

U.  Stcdy  of  THE  Classical  Languac.es. 

1837.    Life,  p.  IM. 

The  Study  of  language  seems  to  me  as  if  it  was  given 
for  the  very  purpose  of  forming  the  human  mind  in 
^  youth;  and  the  Greek  and  Latin  languages^ in  them- 
selves so  perfect,  and  at  the  same  time  freed  from  the 
insuperable  difficulty  which  must  attend  any  attempt 
to  teach  boys  philology  through  the  medium  of  their 
own  spoken  language,  seem  the  very  instruments,  by 
which  this  is  to  be  effected. 


PRACTICAL    CHRISTIANITY. 


149 


PRACTICAL    CHRISTIAXITY. 

1.  Difficulties  of  Religious  Life. 

1810.    Life.  p.  45. 

The  benefits  which   I  have  received  from  my  Oxford 
friendships   have   been   so   invaluable,  as   relating   to 


points  of  the  very  highest  importance,  that  it  is 
impossible  for  me  ever  to  forget  them,  or  to  cease  to 
look  on  them  as  the  greatest  blessings  I  have  ever 
yet  enjoyed  in  life,  and  for  which  I  have  the  deepest 
reason  to  be  most  thankful.  Being  then  separated 
from  you  all,  I  am  most  anxious  that  absence  should 
not  be  allowed  to  weaken  the  regard  we  bear  each 
other;  and  besides,  I  cannot  forego  that  advice  and 
ssistance  which  I  have  so  long  been  accustomed 
to  rely  on,  and  with  which  I  cannot  as  yet  at  least 
safely  dispense ;  for  the  management  of  my  own  mind 
is  a  thing  so  difficult,  and  brings  me  into  contact  with 
much  that  is  so  strangely  mysterious,  tliat  I  stand  at 
times  quite  bewildered,  in  a  chaos  where  I  can  see 
DO  light  cither  before  or  behind.  How  much  of  all 
this  is  constitutional  and  physical,  I  cannot  tell, 
]>erhaps  a  great  deal  of  it ;  yet  it  is  surely  dangerous 
to  look  upon  all  the  struggles  of  the  mind  as  arising 
from  the  state  of  the  body  or  the  weather,  and  so 
resolve  to  bestow  no  attention  upon  them.  Indeed, 
I  think  I  have  far  more  reason  to  be  annoyed  at 
the  extraordinary  apathy  and  abstraction  from  every- 
thing good  which  lhe  routine  of  the  world  s  business 
brings  with  it;  there  are  whole  days  in  which  all 
the  feelings  or  principles  of  belief,  or  of  religion  alto- 
gether, are  in  utter  abeyance ;  when  one  goes  on  very 
comfortably,  pleased  with  external  and  worldly  com- 
forts, and  yet  would  find  it  difficult,  if  told  to  inquire, 
to  find  a  particle  of  Christian  principle  in  one's  whole 
mind.  It  seems  all  quite  moved  out  bodily,  and  one 
retains  no  consciousness  of  a  belief  in  any  one  religious 
truth,   but  is  living   a  life   of    virtual   Atheism.      I 


J^-  ■■A??    ■-■•" 


'  *.     -  '  -.     ' 


^  :v.  v^?5?^p-75^^€i''Mt7#?pp^ 


maul   .lS-Ii'.  . 


■  •tw'7  -i 


J  50         EXTRACTS    FROM   THE   LIFE   AND   LETTERS. 

suppose  these  things  are  equalized  somehow,  but 
I  am  ofteu  inclined  to  wonder  at  and  to  envy  those 
who  seem  never  to  know  what  mental  trouble  is,  and 
who  seem  to  have  nothing  else  to  disturb  them  than  the 
common  petty  annoyances  of  life,  and  when  these 
let  them  alone,  then  they  are  ir  ivira,&tin<n. 

1820.    Life,  p.  51. 

2.  The  hold  which  a  man*8  affections  have  on  him  is 
the  more  dangerous  because  the  less  suspected;  and 
one  may  become  an  idolater  almost  before  one  feels  the 
least  sense  of  danger.  Then  comes  the  fear  of  losin'^ 
the  treasure,  whicli  one  may  love  too  fondly ;  and 
that  fear  is  indeed  terrible.  The  thought  of  the 
instability  of  one's  happiness  comes  in  well  to  inter- 
rupt its  full  indulgence ;  and  if  often  entertained  must 
make  a  man  either  an  Epicurean  or  a  Christian  in  good 
earnest. 

1835.    Life,  p.  311. 

3.  I  am  glad  that  you  have  made  acquaintance  with 
some  of  the  good  poor.  I  quite  agree  with  you  that 
it  is  most  instructive  to  visit  them,  and  I  think  that 
you  are  right  in  what  you  say  of  their  more  lively 
faith.  We  hold  to  earth  and  earthly  things  by  so 
many  more  links  of  thought,  if  not  of  atTection,  that 
it  is  far  harder  to  keep  our  view  of  heaven  clear  and 
strong ;  when  this  life  is  so  busy,  and  therefore  so  full 
of  reality  to  us,  another  life  seems  by  comparison 
unreal.  Tliis  is  our  condition,  and  its  peculiar  tempta- 
tions ;  but  we  must  endure  it,  and  strive  to  overcome 
them,  for  I  think  we  may  not  try  to  ilee  from  it. 


PRACTICAL  CHRISTIANITY. 


151 


1831.    LifP,  p.  253. 

4.  A  man's  life  in  London,  while  he  is  single,  may  be 
very  stirring,  and  very  intellectual,  but  I  imagine  that 
it  must  have  a  hardening  effect,  and  that  this  effect  will 
be  more  felt  every  year  as  the  counter  tendencies  of 
vouth  become  less  powerful.  The  most  certain  softeners 
of  a  man's  moral  skin,  and  sweeteners  of  his  blood,  are, 
I  am  sure,  domestic  intercourse  in  a  happy  marriage, 
and  intercourse  with  the  poor.  It  is  very  hard,  I 
imagine,  in  our  present  state  of  society,  to  keep  up 
intercourse  with  God  without  one  or  both  of  these  aids 
to  foster  it.  Romantic  and  fantastic  indolence  was  the 
fault  of  other  times  and  other  countries  ;  here  I  crave 
more  and  more  every  day  to  find  men  unfevered  by  the 
constant  excitement  of  the  world,  whether  literary, 
political,  commercial,  or  fashionable ;  men  who,  while 
they  are  alive  to  all  that  is  around  them,  feel  also  who 
is  above  them. 

1833.    Life,  p.  274. 

5 The  more  we  are  destitute  of  opportuni- 
ties for  indulging  our  feelings,  as  is  the  case  when  we 
live  in  uncongenial  society,  the  more  we  are  apt  to 
crisp  and  harden  our  outward  manner  to  save  our  real 
feelings  from  exposure.  Thus  I  helieve  that  some  of 
the  most  delicate-minded  men  get  to  appear  actually 
coarse  from  their  unsuccessful  efforts  to  mask  their  real 
nature.  And  I  have  known  men  disagreeably  forward 
from  their  shyness.  But  I  doubt  whether  a  man  does 
not  suffer  from  a  habit  of  self-constraint,  and  whether 
his  feelings  do  not  become  really,  as  well  as  apparently, 
chilled.  It  is  an  immense  blessing  to  be  perfectly 
callous  to  ridicule ;  or,  which  comes  to  the  same  thing, 


S^- .'.»-• 


^  •."»  •v.-i; 


l^iL^i 


.  ^»:ii£^feSt^?i^^:.  «^=i^  js:. 


152         EXTBACTS    FBOM    THE   LIFE    AND    LETTERS. 

to  be  conscious  thoroughly  that  what  we  have  in  us  of 
noble  and  delicate  is  not  ridiculous  to  any  but  fools, 
and  that,  if  fools  will  laugh,  wise  men  will  do  well  to 
let  them. 

183a.    Life,  p.  274. 

0.  I  believe  that  the  one  great  lesson  for  us  all  is,  that 
we  sliould  daily  pray  for  an  "  increase  of  faith."  There 
is  enough  of  iniquity  abounding  to  make  our  love  in 
danger  of  waxing  cold  ;  it  is  well  said,  therefore,  ''  Let 
not  your  heart  be  troubled:  ye  believe  in  God,  believe 
also  in  Me^  By  which  I  understand  that  it  is  not  so 
much  general  notions  of  Providence  which  are  our  best 
support,  but  a  sense  of  the  personal  interest,  if  I  may 
60  speak,  taken  in  our  welfare  by  Him  who  died  for  us 
and  rose  again.  May  His  Spirit  strengthen  us  to  do 
His  will,  and  to  bear  it,  in  power,  in  love,  and  in 
wisdom. 

1838.    Lift',  p.  474. 

7.  I  do  feel  more  and  more  for  my  pupils,  and  for  my 
children  also,  that  I  can  readily  and  thankfully  see 
them  called  away,  when  they  are  to  all  human  appear- 
ance assuredly  called  home.  This  is  a  lesson  which 
advancing  years  impress  very  strongly.  We  can  then 
better  tell  how  little  are  those  earthly  things  of  which 
early  death  deprives  us,  and  how  fearful  is  the  risk  of 
this  worid's  struggle.  May  God  bless  us  through  His 
Son,  and  make  us  to  come  at  last,  be  it  sooner  or  later, 
out  of  this  struggle  conquerors. 


PRACTICAL   CHRISTIANITY. 


153 


8.  Earnestness. 

18:».    Life,  p.  375. 

^Vhat  I  feel  daily  more  and  more  to  need,  as  life 
every  year  rises  more  and  more  before  me  in  its  time 
reality,  is  to  have  intercourse  with  those  who  take  life  v 
in  earnest.  It  is  very  painful  to  me  to  be  always  on 
the  surface  of  things,  and  1  think  that  literature, 
science,  politics,  many  topics  of  far  greater  interest 
than  mere  gossip  or  talking  about  the  weather,  are  yet, 
as  they  are  generally  talked  about,  still  on  the  surface ; 
they  do  not  touch  the  real  depths  of  life.  It  is  not 
that  I  want  much  of  what  is  called  religious  conversa- 
tion,— that,  I  believe,  is  often  on  the  surface,  like 
other  conversation ; — but  1  want  a  sign,  which  one 
catches  as  by  a  sort  of  masonry,  that  a  man  knows  what  \y 
he  is  about  in  life, — whither  tending,  and  in  what  cause 
engaged ;  and  when  I  find  this,  it  seems  to  open  my 
heart  as  thoroughly,  and  with  as  fresh  a  sympathy,  as 
when  1  was  twenty  years  younger. 

9.  Thougiitfulness. 

1««.    Life,  p.  357. 

When  I  look  round  upon  boys  or  men,  there  seems 
to  me  some  one  point  or  quality,  which  distinguishes 
really  noble  persons  from  ordinary  ones;  it  is  not 
religious  feeling — it  is  not  honesty  or  kindness ; — but 
it  seems  to  me  to  be  moral  thoughtfulness ;  which  is  at 
once  strengthening  and  softening  and  elevating ;  which 
makes  a  man  love  Christ  instead  of  being  a  fanatic, 
^d  love  truth  without  being  cold  or  hard. 


^f 


-»^t 


■—Cm 


J-**!'- 


■..-.-*^- 


'  T-Jrvs 


'■ ;  --^i-o-; 


154    EXTRACTS  FROM  THE  LIFE  AND  LFTTFRS. 

10.  Intellectual  and  Moral  Excellence. 

isM.    Life,  p.  103. 

Mere  intellectual  acuteness,  divested  as  it  is,  in  too 
many  cases,  of  all  that  is  comprehensive  and  great  and 
good,  is  to  me  more  revolting  than  the  most  helpless 
imbecility,  seeming  to  be  almost  like  the  spirit  of 
Mephistophiles. 

1«:I5.    Life,  p.  102. 

11.  I  have  now  had  some  years'  experience,  I  have 

known  but  too  many  of  those  who  in  their  utter  folly 

have  said  in  their  heart,  there  was  no  God ;  but  the 

sad  sight— for  n^c^uredly  none  can  be  more  sad— of  a 

powerful,  an  caiJicst,  and  an  inquiring  mind  seeking 

truth,  yet  not  finding  it— the  horrible  sight  of  good 

deliberately  rejected,  and  evil  deliberately  chosen— the 

grievous  wreck  of  earthly  ^Wsdom  united  with  spiritual 

folly_I  believe  that  it  has  been,  that  it  is,  that  it  may 

be— Scripture  speaks  of  it,  the  experience  of  othere 

has  witnessed  it;  but  I  thank  God  that  in  my  own 

experience  I  have  never  witnessed  it  yet ;  I  have  still 

found  that  folly  and  thoughtlessness  have  gone  to  evil ; 

that  thought  and  manliness  have  been  united  with  faith 

and  goodness. 

1827.    Life,  p.  02. 

12.  I  met  five  Englishmen  at  the  public  table  at  our 
mn  at  Milan,  who  gave  me  great  matter  for  cogitation. 
One  was  a  clergyman,  and  just  returned  from  Egypt; 
the  rest  were  young  men.  t.  e,  between  twenty-five  and 
thirty,  and  apparently  of  no  profession.  I  may  safely 
say,  that  since  I  was  an  undergraduate,  I  never  heard 


practical   CHRISTIANITY. 


155 


any  conversation  so  profligate  as  that  which  they  all 
indulged  in,  the  clergyman  particularly ;  indeed,  it  was 
not  merely  gross,  but  avowed  principles  of  wickedness, 
such  as  I  do  not  remember  ever  to  have  heard  in 
Oxford.  But  what  struck  me  most  was,  that  with  this 
bcusuality  there  was  united  some  intellectual  activity, — 
they  were  not  ignorant,  but  seemed  bent  on  gaining  a 
great  variety  of  solid  information  from  their  travels. 

This  union  of  vice  and  intellectual  power  and  know- 
ledge seems  to  me  rather  a  sign  of  the  age ;  and  if 
it  goes  on,  it  threatens  to  produce  one  of  the  most , 
fearful  forms  of  Antichrist  which  has  yet  appeared.! 
I  am  sure  that  the  great  prevalence  of  travelling 
fosters  this  spirit,  not  that  men  learn  mischief  from 
the  French  or  Italians,  but  because  they  are  removed 
from  the  check  of  public  opinion,  and  are,  in  fact,  self- 
constituted  outlaws,  neither  belonging  to  the  society 
which  they  have  left,  nor  taking  a  place  in  that  of  the 
countries  where  they  are  travelling. 

li«7.    Life,  p.  417. 

13.  I  am  quite  sure  that  it  is  a  most  solemn  duty  to 
cultivate  our  understandings  to  the  uttermost,  for  I  have 
seen  the  evil  moral  consequences  of  fanaticism  to  a 
greater  degree  than  I  ever  expected  to  see  them 
realized ;  and  I  am  satisfied  that  a  neglected  intellect 
is  far  oftener  the  cause  of  mischief  to  a  man,  than  a 
perverted  or  over-valued  one.  Men  retain  their  natural 
quickness  and  cleverness,  while  their  reason  and  judg- 
ment are  allowed  to  go  to  ruin,  and  thus  they  do  work 
their  minds  and  gain  influence,  and  are  pleased  at 
gaining  it ;  but  it  is  the  undisciplined  mind  which  they 


•Fi^.vj 


5*:-::? 


v..  ■  ■/"• 


■'.  rVrr^ifT^^iWf^rW^^'-'  •"' 


^^^'iMll 


156 


EXTRACTS  FROM  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS. 


are   exercising,  instead   of  one  wisely  disciplined.     I 
trust  that  you  will  gain  a  good  foundation  of  wisdom  in 
Oxford;  which  may  minister  in  after  years  to  C    " 
glory  and  the  good  of  souls;  and  I  call  by  the  name 
of  wisdom,— knowledge,  rich  and  varied,  digested  and 
combined,  and  pervaded  through  and  through  by  the 
light  of  the   Spirit  of  God,     llemember   the  words, 
*'  Every  scribe  instructed  to  the  kingdom  of  God  is 
like   unto    a    householder  who    bringeth    out  of    his 
treasure  things  new  and  old ; "  that  is,  who  does  not 
think  that  either  the  first  four  centuries  on  the  one 
hand,  nor  the  nineteenth  century  on  the  other,  have  a 
monopoly  of  truth ;  but  who  combines  a  knowledge  of 
one  with  that  of  the  other,  and  judges  all  according  to 
the  judgment  which  he  has  gained  from  the  teaching  of 
the  Scriptures. 

14.  Christian  Principles. 

1832.    Life,  p.  210. 

It  seems  to  me  as  forced  and  unnatural  in  us  now  to 
dismiss  the  principles  of  the  Gospel  and  its  great 
motives  from  our  consideration,  as  it  is  to  fill  our  pages 
with  Hebraisms,  and  to  write  and  speak  in  the  words 
ajjd  style  of  the  Bible.  The  slightest  touches  of  Chris- 
tian principle  and  Christian  hope  in  common  writings 
on  biography  and  history  would  be  a  sort  of  living  salt 
to  the  whole  ;■— and  would  exhibit  that  union  which  I 
never  will  consent  to  think  unattainable,  between  good- 
ness and  wisdom;— between  everything  that  is  manly, 
sensible,  and  free,  and  everything  that  is  pure  and  self- 
denying,  and  humble,  and  heavenly. 

m 


PRACTICAL   CHRISTIANITY. 


1H2G.    Li  if,  p.  us:. 


157 


15.  My  highest  ambition,  and  what  I  hope  to  do  as 
far  as  I  can,  is  to  make  my  history  the  very  reverse  of 
Gibbon  in  this  respect, — that  whereas  the  whole  spirit 
of  his  work,  from  its  low  morality,  is  hostile  to  religion, 
without  speaking  directly  against  it;  so  my  greatest 
desire  would  be,  in  my  History,  by  its  high  morals  and 
its  general  tone,  to  be  of  use  to  the  cause,  without 
actually  bringing  it  forward. 

1842.    Life,  p.  G05. 

10.  The  difference  between  Christian  fiiith  and  love, 
and  the  religion  of  the  heathen  philosophers,  as  ex- 
pressed by  Cicero*,  is  that  they  made  the  feelings  of 
man  towards  the  Deity  to  be  exactly  those  with  which 
we  gaz*^  nf  a  beautiful  sunset. 

17.  Universal  Consent. 

1840.    Life,  p.  409. 

No  man  doubts  that  a  strictly  universal  consent 
would  be  a  very  strong  argument  indeed ;  but  then  by 
the  very  fact  of  its  being  disputed,  it  ceases  to  be 
universal;  and  general  consent  i^a  very  different 
thing  from  universal.  It  becomes  then,  the  consent  of 
the  majority ;  and  we  must  examine  the  nature  of  the 
minority,  and  also  the  peculiiir  nature  of  the  opinions 
or  practices  agreed  in,  before  we  can  decide  whether 
general  consent  be  really  an  argument  for  or  against 
the  truth  of  an  opinion.  For  it  has  been  said,  "  Woe 
nnto  you,  when  all  men  shall  speak  well  of  you ; "  and 

•  Sec  Cicero,  Div.  ii.  72. 


J'^<k.^rA'"«iwfa:':"'lSlfViw;.^-.  li-  -■-  ;>  ?■»■-  ..•art'.jijafi*-  iie,C  '  ■ 


"•HjA^m  :*«^*l'jj'iii>jw-ii'.i-j  -^'JiftCia  Ai>jfet» 


tidCl 


-a&jaJk'<?*;.iMAi»>aJyV  jK-.i'^H  5f'.^■^.t■J;.^Jft.)M».fc^i.»fc-A^^l?^ 


158    EXTRACTS  FROM  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS. 

then  it  would  be  equally  true  of  such  a  generation  or 
generations,  that  it  was,  "  Woe  to  that  opinion  in  which 
all  men  agree." 


18.  On  th^  ^\yino  "The  Times  will  not  bear  it." 

IKtG.    Life,  p.  355. 

I  do  not  understand  how  the  times  can  help  bearing 
what  an  honest  man  has  the  resolution  to  do.  They 
may  hinder  his  views  from  gaining  full  success,  but 
they  cannot  destroy  the  moral  force  of  his  protest 
against  them,  and  at  any  rate  they  cannot  make  him 
do  their  work  without  his  own  co-operation. 

19.  Indifference  to  Attacks. 

IXW.    Life,  p.  101. 

Meanwhile  let  us  mind  our  own  work,  and  try  to 
perfect  the  execution  of  our  own  *•  ideas,"  and  we  shall 
have  enough  to  do,  and  enough  always  to  hinder  us 
from  being  satisfied  with  ourselves ;  but  when  we  are 
attacked  we  have  some  right  to  answer  with  Scipio,  who, 
scorning  to  reply  to  a  charge  of  corruption,  said,  "  Hoc 
die  cum  Hannibde  bene  et  feliciter  pugnavi :  "— we 
have  done  enough  good  and  undone  enough  evil,  to 
allow  us  to  hold  our  assailants  cheap. 

20.  Neutrality. 

18M.    Life,  r       ■ 

Neutrality  seems  to  me  a  natural  state  for  men  of 
fair  honesty,  moderate  wit,  and  much  indolence ;  they 
cannot  get  strong  impressions  of  what  is  true  and  rieht. 


PRACTICAL   CHRISTIANITY 


159 


and  the  weak  impression  which  is  all  that  they  can 
take,  cannot  overcome  indolence  and  fear. 

21.  Difference  of  Tastes  and  Opinions. 

IftW.    Life,  p.  522. 

I  yearn  sadly  after  peace  and  harmony  with  those 
wliom  I  have  long  known,  and  I  will  not  quarrel  with 
them  if  I  can  help  it;  though,  alas,  in  some  of  our 
tastes  there  is  the  music  which  to  them  is  heavenly, 
and  which  to  me  says  nothing ;  and  there  are  the  wild 
flowers  which  to  me  are  so  full  of  beauty,  and  which 
others  tread  upon  with  indifference. 

22.  Admiration. 

l«a:j.    Life,  p.  287. 

I  hold  the  lines,  "nil  admirari,"  Ac,  to  be  as  utterly 
false  as  any  moral  sentiment  ever  uttered.  Intense 
admiration  is  necessary  to  our  highest  perfection,  and 
we  have  an  object  in  the  Gospel,  for  which  it  may  be 
fjelt  to  the  utmost,  without  any  fear  lest  the  most 
critical  intellect  should  tax  us  justly  with  unworthy 
idolatry.  But  I  am  as  little  inclined  as  any  one  to 
make  an  idol  out  of  any  human  virtue,  or  human 
wisdom. 

23.  Reverence. 

1837.    Life,  p.  404. 

To  read  an  account  of  Christ,  written  as  by  an  in- 
different person,  is  to  read  an  unchristian  account  of 
Him ;  because  no  one  who  acknowledges  Him  can  be 
indifferent  to  Him,  but  stands  in  such  relations  to  Him, 
that  the  highest  reverence  must  ever  be  predominant 


.^}^?iii 


160 


EXTRACTS    FROM   THE    LIFE    AND    LETTERS. 


PRACTICAL   CHRISTIANITY. 


161 


We- 


ill his  mind  when  thinking  or  writing  of  Him.  And 
ag^in,  what  is  the  impartiality  that  is  required  ?  Is  it 
that  a  man  shnll  neither  he  a  Christian,  nor  yet  not  a 
Christian?  The  fact  is,  that  roligious  veneration  is 
inconsistent  with  what  is  called  impartiality ;  which 
means,  that  as  you  see  some  good  and  some  evil  on 
both  sides,  you  identify  yourself  with  neither,  and  are 
able  to  judge  of  both.  And  this  holds  good  with  all 
human  parties  and  characters,  but  not  with  what  is 
divine,  and  consequently  perfect:  for  then  we  should 
identify  ourselves  with  it,  and  are  perfectly  incapable 
of  passing  judgment  upon  it.  If  I  think  that  Christ 
was  no  more  than  Socrates  (I  do  not  mean  in  degree 
but  in  kind),  I  can  of  course  speak  of  Rim  impartially; 
that  is,  I  assume  at  rmce,  that  there  are  faults  and  im- 
perfections in  his  character,  and  on  these  I  pass  my 
judgment:  but,  if  I  believe  in  Him,  I  am  not  His 
judge,  but  His  servant  and  creature:  and  He'claimsthe 
devotion  of  my  whole  nature,  because  He  is  identical 
with  goodness,  wisdom,  and  holiness.  Nor  can  I  for 
the  sake  of  strangers  assume  another  feeling,  and 
another  language,  because  this  is  compromising  the 
highest  duty, — it  is  like  denying  Him,  instead  of  con- 
fessing Him. 

There  is  abundant  room  for  impartiality  in  judging 
of  religious  men,  and  of  men's  opinions  about  religion, 
just  as  of  their  opinions  about  anything  else ;  but  with 
regard  to  God  and  His  truth,  impartiality  is  a  mere 
contradiction ;  and,  if  we  profess  to  be  impartial  about 
all  things,  it  can  only  be  that  we  acknowledge  in  none 
that  mark  of  divinity  which  claims  devout  adherence, 
and  with  regard  to  which  impai'tiality  is  nrofanoness. 


1837.    Life,  p.  404. 

24.  That  one  word  at  the  end  of  Faust  does  indeed 
make  it  to  my  mind  a  great  work  instead  of  a  piece  of 
Devilry.  Still  I  cannot  get  over  the  introduction. 
If  it  had  been  by  one  without  any  relation  to  God  or 
his  fellow-creatures,  it  would  be  different — but  in  a 
human  being  it  is  not  to  be  forgiven.  To  give  entirely 
without  reverence  a  representation  of  God  is  in  itself 
blasphemous. 

25.  Reverence  of  the  Scriptures. — It  is  in  speak- 
ing of  God  that  what  we  call  the  Bible,  taking  it 
altogether,  through  and  through,  has  such  a  manifest 
superiority  to  everything  else.  When  the  Almighty 
condescends  to  make  Himself  known,  it  is  by  an  angel, 
or  in  some  manner  that  keeps  all  safe.  What  can  be 
more  magnificent  than  what  is  said  of  the  conversation 
of  Abraham  before  the  destruction  of  Sodom ! 

2(5.  Preparation  for  Holy  Orders. 

1830.    Life,  p.  4t^. 

If  you  were  going  into  the  Law,  or  to  study  Medicine, 
there  would  be  a  clear  distinction  between  your  pro- 
fessional reading  and  your  general  reading;  between 
that  reading  which  was  designed  to  make  you  a  good 
lawyer  or  physician,  and  that  which  was  to  make  you  a 
good  and  wise  man.  But  it  is  the  peculiar  excellence 
of  the  Christian  ministry,  that  there  a  man's  profes- 
sional reading  and  general  reading  coincide,  and  the 
very  studies  which  would  most  tend  to  make  him  a 
good  and  wise  man,  do  tlierefore  of  necessity  tend  to 
make  him  a  good  clergyman.     Our  merely  professional 

M 


1*  ^^f- 


'mSsAitsit  !t;MS£'.3;Sffi«&4rtaia 


'--^.v-i. 


162 


EXTRACTS    FIK)M   THE    LIFE    AND    LETIERS. 


PRACTICAL   CHRISTIANITY. 


16:3 


reading  appears  to  me  to  consist  in  little  more  than  an 
acquaintance  with  such  laws,  or  Church  regulations,  as 
concern  the  discharge  of  our  ministerial  duties,  in 
matters  external  and  formal.  But  the  great  mass  of 
our  professional  reading  is  not  merely  j»rofessional,  but 
general ;  that  is  to  say.  if  I  had  time  at  my  command, 
and  wished  to  follow  the  studies  which  would  be  most 
useful  to  me  as  a  Christian,  without  reference  to  any 
one  particular  trade  or  calling,  I  should  select,  as  nearly 
as  might  be,  that  very  same  course  of  study  which  to 
my  mind  would  also  be  the  best  preparation  for  the 
work  of  the  Christian  ministry. 

That  the  knowledge  of  the  Scriptures  is  the  most 
essential  point  in  our  studies  as  men  and  Christians,  is 
as  clear  to  my  mind  as  that  it  is  also  the  most  essential 
point  in  our  studies  as  clergymen.  The  only  question 
is,  in  what  manner  is  this  knowledge  to  be  best 
obtained.  Now, — omitting  to  speak  of  the*  moral  and 
spiritual  means  of  obtaining  it,  such  as  prayer  and  a 
watchful  life,  about  the  paramount  necessity  of  which 
there  is  no  doubt  whatever, — our  present  question  only 
regards  the  intellertual  means  of  obtaining  it,  that  is. 
the  knowledge  and  the  cultivation  of  our  mental 
faculties,  which  may  best  serve  to  the  end  desired. 

Knowledge  of  the  Scriptures  seems  to  consist  in  two 
things,  so  essentially  united,  however,  that  I  scarcely 
like  to  separate  them  even  in  thought ;  the  one  I  will 
call  the  knowledge  of  the  contents  of  the  Scriptures  in 
themselves ;  the  other  the  knowledge  of  their  applica- 
tion to  us,  and  our  own  times  and  circumstances. 
Really  and  truly  I  believe  that  the  one  of  these  cannot 
exist  in  any  perfection  without  the  other.     Of  course 


we  cannot  apply  the  Scriptures  properly  without  know- 
ing them  ;  and  to  know  them  merely  as  an  ancient  book, 
without  understanding  how  to  apply  them,  appears  to 
me  to  be  ignorance  rather  tlian  knowledge.  But  still 
in  thought  we  can  separate  the  two,  and  each  also  re- 
quires in  some  measure  a  different  line  of  study. 

The  intellectual  means  of  acquiring  a  knowledge  of 
the  Scriptures  in  themselves  are,  I  suppose,  Philology, 
Antiquities,  and  Ancient  History;  but  the  means  of 
acquiring  the  knowledge  of  their  right  application  are 
far  more  complex  in  their  character,  and  it  is  precisely 
here,  as  I  think,  that  the  common  course  of  theological 
study  is  so  exceedingly  narrow,  and  therefore  the  mis- 
takes committed  in  the  ajiplication  of  the  Scriptures, 
are,  as  it  seems  to  me,  so  frequent  and  so  mischievous. 
As  one  great  example  of  what  I  mean,  I  will  instance 
the  questions,  which  are  now  so  much  agitated,  of 
Church  authority  and  Church  govenimeut.  It  is  just 
;is  impossible  for  a  man  to  understand  these  questions 
without  a  knowledge  of  the  great  questions  of  law  and 
government  genemlly,  as  it  is  to  understand  any  matter 
that  is  avowedly  political ;  and  therefore  the  Politics  of 
Aristotle  and  similar  works  are  to  me  of  a  very  great 
and  direct  use  every  day  of  my  life,  wherever  these 
questions  are  brought  before  me ;  and  you  know  how 
ufien  these  questions  are  mooted,  and  with  what  vehe- 
mence men  engage  in  them.  Historical  readhig  it 
appears  that  you  are  actually  engaged  in,  but  so  much 
of  History  is  written  so  ill,  that  it  appears  to  me  to  be 
desirable  to  be  well  acquainted  with  the  greatest 
historians,  in  order  to  learn  what  the  defects  of  common 
Uistoiy  are,  and  how  we  should  be  ablr  to  supply  th^m. 

M  2 


■^7^::!^^^ 


■*. '  V-. 


l!?A4iJ 


■T*,i2 


ES,5f  -f^-Sfr  i.-'i^S?,  if 


164 


EXTRACTS   FROM  THE   UFE   AND   LETTrn<^ 


PRACTICAL   CHRISTIANITY. 


165 


It  is  a  rare  quality  in  any  man  to  be  able  really  to 
represent  to  bimself  the  picture  of  another  age  and 
country;  and  much  of  History  is  so  vague  and  poor 
that  no  lively  images  can  be  gathered  from  it.  There 
is  actually,  so  far  as  I  know,  no  great  ecclesiastical 
historian  in  any  language.  But  the  flatnesses  and 
meagreness  and  unfairness  of  most  of  those  who  have 
written  on  this  subject  may  not  strike  us,  if  we  do  not 
know  what  good  History  should  be.  And  any  one  very 
great  historian,  such  as  Thucvdides,  or  Tacitus,  or 
Niebuhr,  throws  a  light  backward  and  forward  upon  all 
History:  for  any  one  age  or  country  well  brought  before 
our  minds  teaches  us  what  historical  knowledge  really 
is,  and  saves  us  from  thinking  that  we  have  it  when 
we  have  it  not.  T  have  stated  what  appears  to  me  to 
1)6  the  best  means  of  acquiring  a  knowledge  of  the 
Scriptures,  both  in  themselves,  and  in  their  application 
to  ourselves.  And  it  is  this  second  part  which  calls  for 
such  a  variety  of  miscellaneous  knowledge;  inasmuch 
as,  in  order  to  apply  a  nile  properly,  we  must  under- 
stand the  nature  and  circumstances  of  the  case  to  which 
it  is  to  be  applied,  and  liow  they  differ  from  those  of  the 
case  to  which  it  was  applied  originally.  Thus  there  are 
two  states  of  the  human  race  which  we  want  to  under- 
stand thoroughly ;  the  state  when  the  New  Testament 
was  written,  and  our  own  state.  And  our  own  state  is 
80  connected  with,  and  dependent  on  the  past,  that  in 
order  to  understand  it  thoroughly  we  must  go  back- 
wards into  past  ages,  and  thus,  in  fact,  we  are  obliged 
to  go  back  till  we  connect  our  own  time  with  the  first 
centur)',  and  in  many  points  with  centuries  yet  more 
remote.     You  will  say  then,  in  another  sense  from  what 


St  Paul  said  it,  •'  Who  is  sufficient  for  these  things  ?  " 
and  I  answer,  "  No  man ;  "  but,  notwithstanding,  it  is 
well  to  have  a  good  model  before  us,  although  our  imi- 
tation of  it  will  fall  far  short  of  it.  But  you  say,  how 
does  all  this  edify?  And  this  is  a  matter  whicli  I 
tliink  it  is  very  desirable  to  understand  clearly. 

If  death  were  immediately  beforeais, — say  that  the 
Cholera  was  in  a  man's  parish,  and  numbers  were  dying 
ilaily, — it  is  manifest  that  our  duties, — our  preparation 
fur  another  life  by  conforming  ourselves  to  God's  will 
respecting  us  in  this  life, — would  become  exceedingly 
simple.  To  preach  the  Gospel,  that  is,  to  lead  men  s 
faith  to  Christ  as  their  Saviour  by  His  death  and  resur- 
rection ;  to  be  earnest  in  practical  kindness ;  to  clear 
one's  heart  of  all  enmities  and  evil  passions  ;  this  would 
be  a  man's  work,  and  this  only ;  his  reading  would,  I 
suppose,  be  limited  then  to  such  parts  of  the  Scriptures 
as  were  directly  strengthening  to  his  faith,  and  hope 
and  charity,  to  works  of  prayers  and  hymns,  and  to  such 
practical  instructions  as  might  be  within  bis  reach  as  to 
the  treatment  of  the  prevailing  disease. 

Now  can  we  say,  that  in  ordinary  life  our  duties  can 
be  made  thus  simple?  Are  there  not,  then,  matters  of 
this  life  which  must  be  attended  to?  Are  there  not 
many  questions  would  press  upon  us  in  which  we  must 
act  and  advise,  besides  the  simple  direct  preparation 
for  death?  And  it  being  God's  will  that  we  should 
have  to  act  and  advise  in  these  things,  and  our  service 
to  Him  and  to  His  Church  necessarily  requiring  them  ; 
is  it  right  to  say,  that  the  knowledge  which  shall  teach 
us  how  to  act  and  advise  rightly  with  respect  to  them 
is  not  edijy'mfj  / 


li^-"^^' 


:^\ 


t>.v.->; 


dy^^^^-^r' 


'•^Xi-ni-c-^-v'^a* 


100 


EXTRACTS    FROM    THE    LIFE    AND    LETTERS. 


PRACTICAL   CHRISTIANITY. 


167 


But  may  not  a  man  say,  "  I  wish  to  bu  lu  the  Minis- 
try, but  I  do  not  feel  an  inclination  for  a  long  course 
of  reading;  my  tastes,  and  I  think  my  duties,  lead  me 
another  way?"  This  may  be  said,  I  think  very  justly. 
A  man  may  do  immense  good  with  nothing  more  than 
an  unlearned  familiarity  with  the  Scriptures,  with  sound 
practical  sense  and  activity,  taking  part  in  all  the  busi- 
ness of  his  parish,  and  devoting  himself  to  intercourse 
with  men  rather  than  with  books.  1  honour  such  men 
in  the  highest  degree,  and  think  that  they  are  among 
the  most  valuable  ministers  that  the  Church  possesses. 
A  man's  reading,  in  this  case,  is  of  a  miscellaneous  cha- 
racter, consisting,  besides  the  Bil)le  and  such  books  as 
are  properly  devotional,  of  such  books  as  chancu  throws 
in  his  way,  or  the  particular  concerns  of  his  parish  may 
lead  him  to  take  an  interest  in.  And,  though  he  may 
not  be  a  learned  man.  he  may  be  that  which  is  far  better 
than  mere  learning, — a  wise  man,  and  a  good  man. 

All  that  I  would  entreat  of  every  man  with  whom  I 
had  any  influence  is,  that  if  he  read  at  all — in  the  sense 
of  studying, —  he  should  read  widely  and  comprehen- 
sively; that  he  should  not  read  exclusively  or  princi- 
pally what  is  called  Divinity.  Learning,  as  it  is  called, 
of  this  sort, — when  not  properly  mixed  with  that  com- 
prehensive study  which  alone  deserves  the  name, — is, 
I  am  satisfied,  an  actual  miscliief  to  a  man  s  mind ;  it 
impairs  his  simple  common  sense,  and  gives  him  n  • 
wisdom.  It  makes  him  narrow-minded,  and  fills  him 
Nnth  absurdities ;  and,  while  ho  is  in  reality  grievously 
ignorant,  it  makes  him  consider  himself  a  great  divine. 
Let  a  man  read  nothing,  if  he  will,  except  his  Bible 
and  Prayer  Book  and  the  chance  reading  of  the  day : 


but  let  him  not,  if  he  values  the  power  of  seeing  truth 
and  judging  soundly,  let  him  not  read  exclusively  or 
predominantly  the  works  of  those  who  are  called  di- 
vines, whether  they  be  those  of  the  first  four  centuries, 
or  those  of  the  sixteenth,  or  those  of  the  eighteenth  or 
seventeenth.  With  regard  to  the  Fathers,  as  they  are 
called,  I  would  advise  those  who  have  time  to  read  them 
deeply,  those  who  have  less  time  to  read  at  least  parts 
of  them ;  but  in  all  cases  presene  the  proportions  of 
your  reading.  Read  along  with  the  Fathers,  the 
writings  of  men  of  other  times  and  of  different  powers 
of  mind.  Keep  your  view  of  men  and  things  extensive, 
and  depend  upon  it  that  a  mixed  knowledge  is  not  a 
superlicial  one ; — as  far  as  it  goes,  the  views  that  it 
gives  are  true, — but  he,  who  reads  deeply  in  one  class 
of  writers  only,  gets  views  which  are  almost  sure  to  be 
pen-erted,  and  which  are  not  only  narrow  but  false. 
Adjust  your  proposed  amount  of  reading  to  your  time 
and  inclination — this  is  perfectly  free  to  every  man, 
but  whether  that  amount  be  large  or  small,  let  it  be 
varied  in  its  kind  and  widely  varied.  If  I  have  a  con- 
fident  opinion  on  any  one  point  connected  with  the 
improvement  of  the  human  mind,  it  is  on  this.  I  have 
now  given  you  the  principles,  which  I  believe  to  be 
true,  with  respect  to  a  clergj-mans  reading. 

27.  Profession  of  Medicine. 

18:i6.    life,  p.  'i»,i. 

It  is  a  real  pleasure  to  me  to  find  that  you  are  taking 
steadily  to  a  profession,  without  which  I  scarcely  see 
how  a  man  can  live  honestly.  That  is,  I  use  the  term 
"profession"  in  rather  a  large  sense,  not  as  simply 


a.*  -  -.i- 


Vkh^j^'LV  4*^ 


3^  ■•.".■?t--"^??^^"f-  ' 


■T^'^-'^f 


'^A^ 


168 


EXTRACTS    FROM    xnF    TIFF    AVn    TETTERS. 


PRACTICAL   CHRISTIANITY. 


169 


denoting  certain  callings  which  a  man  follows  for  his 
maintenance,  but  rather,  a  definite  field  of  duty,  which 
the  nobleman  has  as  much  as  a  tailor,  but  which  he  has 
not,  who  havinj*  an  income  large  enough  to  keep  him 
from  starving,  hangs  about  upon  life,  merely  followinj; 
his  own  caprices  and  fancies;  quod  factu  pessimum 
est.  I  can  well  enough  understand  how  medicine,  like 
every  other  profession,  has  its  moral  and  spiritual 
dangers ;  but  I  do  not  see  why  it  should  have  more 
than  others.  The  tendency  to  Atheism,  I  imagine, 
exists  in  every  study  followed  up  vigorously,  without  a 
foundation  of  faith,  and  that  foundation  carefully 
strengthened  and  built  upon.  The  student  in  History 
is  as  much  busied  with  secondary'  causes  as  the  student 
in  medicine ;  the  rule  **  nee  Deus  intersit,"  true  as  it  is 
up  to  a  certain  point,  that  we  may  not  annihilate  man's 
agency  and  make  him  a  puppet,  is  ever  apt  to  be 
followed  too  far  when  we  are  become  familiar  with  man 
or  with  nature,  and  understand  the  laws  which  direct 
both.  Then  these  laws  seem  enough  to  account  for 
everything,  and  the  laws  themselves  we  ascribe  either 
to  chance,  or  the  mystifications  called  **  nature,"  or  the 
**  anima  mundi,"  the  *'  spiritus  intus  alit  "  of  Pantheism. 
If  there  is  anything  special  in  the  atheistic  tendency  of 
medicine,  it  arises,  I  suppose,  from  certain  vague  notions 
about  the  soul,  its  independence  of  matter,  &c.,  and  from 
the  habit  of  considering  these  notions  as  an  essential 
part  of  religion.  Now  1  think  that  the  Christian  doc- 
trine of  the  Resurrection  meets  the  Materialists  so  far 
as  this,  that  it  does  imply  that  a  body,  or  an  organiza- 
tion of  some  sort,  is  necessary  to  the  full  development 
of  man's  nature.    Beyond  this  we  cannot  go ;  for, — grant- 


ing that  the  brain  is  essential  to  thought, — still  no  man 
can  say  that  the  white  pulp  which  you  can  see  and  touch 
and  anatomize  can  itself  thinJi,  and  by  whatever  names 
wo  endeavour  to  avoid  acknowledging  the  existence  of 
mind, — whether  we  talk  of  a  subtle  lluid,  or  a  wonder- 
ful arrangement  of  nerves,  or  anything  else,— still  we 
do  but  disguise  our  ignorance  ;  for  the  act  of  thinking 
is  one  sui  generis,  and  the  thinking  power  must  in  like 
manner  he  different  from  all  that  we  commonly  mean 
by  matter.  The  question  of  Free  Will  is,  and  ever 
must  be,  imperfectly  understood.  If  u  man  denies  that 
he  has  a  will  either  to  sit  or  not  to  sit,  to  write  a  note 
or  no,  I  cannot  prove  to  him  that  he  has  one.  If  again, 
he  maintains  tliat  the  choosing  power  in  him  cannot  but 
choose  what  seems  to  it  to  be  good,  then  this  is  a  great 
tribute  to  the  importance  of  good  habits,  and  to  the 
duty  of  impressing  right  notions  of  good  on  the  young 
mind,  all  which  is  perfectly  true.  And,  in  the  last 
case,  if  a  man  maintains  that  his  nature  irresistibly 
teaches  him  that  what  we  call  good  is  evil,  and  vice 
versa,  then  I  find  at  once  the  value  of  those  passages 
in  Scripture  which  have  been  so  grievously  misused, 
and  I  see  before  me  a  vessel  of  wrath  fitted  for  destruc- 
tion, fitted,  as  I  believe,  through  its  own  fault;  but  if 
it  denies  this,  then  at  any  rate  fitted  for  destruction, 
and  on  the  sure  way  to  it. 

But  no  doubt  every  study  requires  to  be  tempered 
and  balanced  with  something  out  of  itself,  if  it  be  only 
to  prevent  the  mind  from  becoming  "einseitig,"  or 
pedantic;  and  ascending  higher  still,  all  intellectual 
study,  however  comprehensive,  requires  spiritual  study 
to  be  joined  with  it,   lest  our  nature  itself  become 


,;^  If..'- 


M)^ks 


■  -?. 


I 


-i.  '*  <  -V^  I  i'^  - 


,v. 


170         EXTRACTS    FROM    THE    LIFE    AND    LETTERS. 

"  einseitig ; "  the  intellect  growing ;— the  higher  reason 
— the  higher  or  spiritual  wisdom  stunted  or  decaying. 
I  believe  that  any  man  can  make  himself  an  Atheist 
speedily,  by  breaking  off  his  own  personal  communion 
with  God  in  Christ ;  but  if  he  keep  this  unimpaired,  I 
believe  that  no  intellectual  study,  whether  of  nature  or 
of  man,  will  force  him  into  Atheism ;  but,  on  the  con- 
trary, the  new  creations  of  our  knowledge,  so  to  speak. 
gather  themselves  into  a  fair  and  harmonious  system, 
ever  revolving  in  their  brightness  around  their  proper 
centre,  the  throne  of  God.  Prayer,  and  kindly  inter- 
course with  the  poor,  are  the  two  great  safeguards  of 
spiritual  life ; — its  more  than  food  and  raiment. 

28.  Profession  of  a  ^Fissionary  in  India. 

1840.    I.ifc^  p.  511. 

I  am  well  persuaded  that  to  a  good  man  with  regard 
to  his  choice  of  one  amidst  several  lines  of  duty,  •'  Sua 
cuique  Deus  fit  dira  cupido."  It  is  a  part  of  God's 
Providence  that  some  men  are  made  to  see  strongly  the 
claims  of  one  calling,  others  those  of  another.  If, 
therefore,  a  man  tells  me  that  he  feels  bound  to  go  out 
as  a  Missionary  to  India,  I  feel  that  I  ought  not  to 
grudge  to  India  what  God  seems  to  will  for  her. 

Whether  you  go  to  India,  or  to  any  other  foreign 
country,  the  first  and  great  point,  I  think,  is  to  turn 
your  thoughts  to  the  edification  of  the  Church  already 
in  existence, — that  is,  the  English  or  Christian  societies 
as  distinct  from  the  Hindoos.  Unless  the  English  and 
the  half-caste  people  can  be  brought  into  a  good  state, 
how  can  you  get  on  with  the  Hindoos?  Again,  I  am 
inclined  to  think  that  greater  good  might  be  done  by 


practical   CHRISTIANITY. 


171 


joining  a  young  English  settlement,  than  by  missionary 
work  amongst  the  heathen.  Every  good  man  going  to 
New  Zealand,  or  to  Van  Diemen's  Land,  not  for  the 
sake  of  making  money,  is  an  invaluable  element  in 
those  societies;  and  remember  that  they,  after  all, 
must  be,  by  and  by,  the  great  missionaries  to  the 
heathen  world,  either  for  God  or  for  the  Devil. 

But  still,  do  not  lightly  think  that  any  claims  can  be 
rrreater  upon  you  than  those  of  this  Church  and  people 
of  England.  It  is  not  surely  to  the  purpose  to  say  that 
there  are  ten  thousand  clergymen  here,  and  very  few 
in  India.  Do  these  ten  thousand  clergymen  all,  or 
even  the  greater  part  of  them,  appreciate  what  they 
have  to  do  ?  Is  not  the  mass  of  evil  here  greater  a 
thousand  times  in  its  injurious  effects  on  the  world  at 
large,  than  all  the  idolatry  of  India  ?  and  is  it  less  dan- 
gerous to  the  souls  of  those  concerned  in  it  ?  Look  at 
the  state  of  your  own  county  of  Durham ;  and  does  not 
that  cry  out  as  loud  as  India,  notwithstanding  its  bishop 
and  its  golden  stalls  ?  And  remember— that  the  Apos- 
tles did  indeed,  or  rather  some  of  them  did,  spread  the 
Gospel  over  many  provinces  of  the  Ex)man  Empire ; — 
but  it  was  necessary  that  it  should  have  a  wide  diffusion 
once  ;  not  that  this  diffusion  was  to  go  on  universally  and 
always,  although  the  old  Churches  might  be  grievously 
wanting  the  aid  of  those  who  were  plunging  into  heathen 
and  barbarian  countries  to  make  nominal  converts. 

But  bevond  tliis  no  man  can  advise  you ;  you  may  do 

ft) 

good  by  God's  blessing  anywhere, — ^you  will,  I  doubt 
not,  serve  him  everywhere, — but  what  you  feel  to  be  your 
particular  call,  you  must  alone  determine.  But  do 
not  decide  hastilv.  for  it  is  an  important  question,  and 


,-r-S2  -v-p. 


^fj?!.''. 


172         EXTRACTS    FROM   THE    LIFE   AND   LETTERS. 

if  you  go  and  then  regret  it,  time  and  opportunities  will 
be  lost. 

If  you  do  go  to  India,  still  remember  that  the  great 
work  to  be  done  is  to  organize  and  purify  Christian 
Churches  of  whites  and  half-nistes.  These  must  be 
the  nucleus  to  which  individuals  from  the  natives  will 
continually  join  more  and  more,  as  these  become  more 
numerous  and  more  respectable.  Otherwise  the  caste 
system  is  an  insuperable  difficulty;  you  call  on  a  man 
to  leave  all  his  old  connexions,  and  to  become  infamous 
in  their  eyes,  and  yet  have  no  living  Church  to  offer 
him,  where  *'  he  shall  receive  fathers  and  mothers,  and 
brethren  and  sisters,  Ac,  a  hundred  fold."  Individual 
preaching  amongst  the  Hindoos,  without  having  a 
Church  to  which  to  invite  them,  seems  to  me  the 
wildest  of  follies.  Remember  how  in  every  place  St. 
Paul  made  the  proselytes  to  Judaism  the  foundation 
of  his  Church,  and  then  the  idolatrous  heathen~gathered 
round  these  in  more  or  less  numbers. 

1842.    Life,  p.  002. 

il9.  There  must  be  a  great  interest  in  having  to  deal 
with  minds,  whose  training  has  been  so  different  from 
our  own,  though  it  would  be  to  me  a  great  peq^lexity. 
I  should  think  its  tendency  would  be  at  first  to  make 
one  sceptical,  and  then,  if  that  was  overcome,  to  make 
one  fanatical.  I  mean  that  it  must  be  startling  at  first 
to  meet  with  many  persons  holding  as  truths,  things 
the  most  opposite  from  what  we  beheve,  and  even  so 
differing  from  us  in  their  appreciation  of  evidence. 
And  first,  this  would  incline  one,  I  should  think,  to 
mistrust  all  truth,  or  to  thiuk  that  it  was  suljective 


POUTICS. 


173 


merely,  one  truth  for  Europe,  and  another  for  India ; 
then,  if  this  feeling  were  repelled,  there  would  be  the 
danger  of  maintaining  a  conclusion  which  yet  one  did 
not  feel  one  could  satisfactorily  prove, — the  resolving 
that  a  thing  shall  be  believed  by  the  mind,  whether 
reasonably  or  unreasonably.  I  should  earnestly,  I 
think,  look  out  in  a  Hindoos  mind  for  those  points 
which  he  had  in  common  with  us,  and  see  if  the 
enormous  differences  might  not  be  explained,  and  their 
existence  accounted  for.  In  this  way  I  have  always 
believed  in  the  existence  of  a  moral  sense  amongst  all 
men,  in  spite  of  the  tremendous  differences  in  the 
notions  of  different  ages  and  countries  as  to  right  and 
wrong.  I  think  these  differences  may  be  explained, 
and  that  they  do  not  disprove  a  common  idea  of  and 
appreciation  of  virtue,  as  consisting  mainly  in  self- 
denial  and  love.  But  all  this  will  have  presented  itself 
to  you  often,  and  mine  is  but  hypothesis,  for  my  sole 
acquaintance  has  been  with  European  minds,  trained 
more  or  less  in  the  same  school. 


rOLITIGS. 

1.  Party  Srimr. 

18;».    Life,  p.  l.V{. 


^k; 


May  God  grant  to  my  sons,  if  they  live  to  manhood, 
an  unshaken  love  of  truth,  and  a  firm  resolution  to 
follow  it  for  themselves,  with  an  intense  abhorrence  of 
all  party  ties,  save  that  one  tie,  which  binds  them  to 
the  party  of  Christ  against  wickedness. 


:U^y*V^Si>S> 


^^^•im7??v.'- 


•:■■•=•■■  ^  Si? 


174       extracts  from  the  life  and  letters. 
2.  Philosophy  of  Parties. 

IKM.    Life,  p.  xn. 

It  Strikes  me  that  a  noble  work  might  be  written  on 
the  Philosophy  of  Parties  and  devolutions,  showing 
what  are  the  essential  points  of  division  in  all  civil 
contests,  and  what  are  hut  accidents.  For  the  want  of 
this,  history  as  a  collection  of  facts  is  of  no  use  at  all 
to  many  persons ;  they  mistake  essential  resemblances, 
and  dwell  upon  accidental  ditferences,  especially  when 
those  accidental  diflerences  are  in  themselves  matters 
of  great  importance,  such  as  differences  in  religion,  or, 
more  or  less,  of  civil  liberty  and  equality.  Whereas  it 
seems  to  me  that  the  real  parties  in  human  nature  are 
the  Conservatives  and  the  Advancers ;  those  who  look 
to  the  past  or  present,  and  those  who  look  to  the 
future,  whether  knowingly  and  deliberately,  or  by  an 
instinct  of  their  nature,  indolent  in  one  case  and 
restless  in  the  other,  which  they  themselves  do  not 
analyze.  Thus  Conservatism  may  sometimes  be  ultra 
democracy,  (see  Cleon's  speech  in  Thucydides,  III.,) 
sometimes  aristocracy,  as  in  the  civil  wars  of  Rome,  or 
in  the  English  constitution  now ;  and  the  Advance  may 
be  sometimes  despotism,  sometimes  aristocmcy,  but 
always  keeping  its  essential  character  of  advance,  of 
taking  off  bonds,  removing  prejudices,  altering  what  is 
existing.  The  Advance  in  its  perfect  form  is  Chris- 
tianity, and  in  a  corrupted  world  must  always  be  the 
true  principle,  although  it  has  in  many  instances  been 
80  clogged  with  evil  of  various  kinds,  that  the  con- 
servative principle,  although  essentially  false  since  man 
fell  into  sin,  has  yet  commended  itself  to  good  men 


POLITICS. 


175 


while   they  looked   on   the   history  of   mankind   only 
partially,  and  did  not  consider  it  as  a  whole. 

3.  Liberal  Principles. 

182H.    Life,  p.  (i9. 

My  views  of  things  certainly  become  daily  more 
reforming ;  and  what  I  above  all  other  things  wish  to 
see  is,  a  close  union  between  Christian  reformers  and 
those  who  are  often,  as  I  think,  falsely  charged  'SNith 
being  enemies  of  Christianity.  It  is  a  part  of  the 
perfection  of  the  Gospel  that  it  is  attractive  to  all 
those  who  love  truth  and  goodness,  as  soon  as  it  is 
known  in  its  true  nature,  whilst  it  tends  to  clear  away 
those  erroneous  views  and  evil  passions  with  which 
philanthropy  and  philosophy,  so  long  as  they  stand 
aloof  from  it,  arc  ever  in  some  degree  corrupted.  My 
feeling  towards  men  whom  I  believe  to  be  sincere 
lovers  of  truth  and  the  happiness  of  their  fellow- 
creatures,  while  they  seek  these  ends  otherwise  than 
through  the  medium  of  the  Gospel,  is  rather  that  they 
are  not  far  from  the  kingdom  of  God,  and  might  be 
brought  into  it  altogether,  than  that  they  are  enemies 
whose  views  are  directly  opposed  to  our  own.  That 
they  are  not  brought  into  it  is,  I  think,  to  a  consider- 
able degree,  chargeable  upon  the  professors  of  Chris- 
tianity ;  the  High  Church  party  seeming  to  think  that 
the  establishment  in  Church  and  State  is  all  in  all, 
and  that  the  Gospel  principles  must  be  accommodated 
to  our  existing  institutions,  instead  of  offering  a  pattern 
by  which  those  institutions  should  be  purified ;  and  the 
Evangelicals  by  their  ignorance  and  narrow-mindedness, 


»  i^   ^^ *T-»"     'iC "    "^~,- 


fv^"**  'i  "**>•"?* 


\";!fPli|Si%i?' 


^^^^^^^^^^ 


".  ■     "■      -    ■     -  '«  "Aw."'!! 


170       EXTn^f'T??  rnoM  ttte  t.tfp.  and  letters. 

aud  their  seeming  wish  to  keep  the  world  and  the 
Church  ever  distinct,  instead  of  labouring  to  destroy 
the  one  by  increasing  the  influence  of  the  other,  and 
making  the  kingdoms  of  the  world  indeed  the  kingdoms 
of  Christ. 

4.  Conservatism. 

l*».    Life,  p.  329. 

A  volume  might  be  written  on  those  words  of  Har- 
rington, *•  tliat  we  are  living  in  the  dregs  of  the  Gothic 
Empire."  It  is  that  the  beginn'uKjs  of  things  are  bad — 
aud  when  they  have  not  been  altered,  you  may  safely 
say  that  they  want  altering.  But  then  comes  the 
question  whether  our  fate  is  not  fixed,  and  whether  you 
could  not  as  well  make  the  muscles  and  sinews  of  a  full- 
grown  man  perform  the  feats  of  an  Indian  juggler; 
great  changes  require  great  docility,  and  you  can  only 
e.xpect  that  from  perfect  knowledge  or  perfect  ignorance. 

1840.    Life,  p.  50». 

5.  The  principle  of  Conservatism  has  always  appeared 
to  me  to  be  not  only  foolish,  but  to  be  actually  "  felo  de 
fie :  *'  it  destroys  what  it  loves,  because  it  will  not  mend 
it.  But  I  cordially  agree  with  Xiebuhr,— who  in  all 
such  questions  is  to  me  the  greatest  of  all  authorities ; 
because,  together  with  an  ability  equal  to  the  highest, 
he  had  an  universal  knowledge  of  political  history,  far 
more  profound  than  was  ever  possessed  by  any  other 
man, — that  ever}'  new  institution  should  be  but  a  fuller 
development  of,  or  an  addition  to,  what  already  exists ; 
and  that  if  things  have  come  to  such  a  pass  in  a 
country,  that  all  its  past  history  and  associations  are 


POLITICS. 


177 


cast  away  as  merely  bad,  Reform  in  such  a  country  is 
impossible.  I  believe  it  to  be  necessary,  and  quite 
desirable,  that  the  popular  power  in  a  state  should, 
in  the  perfection  of  things,  be  paramount  to  every 
other;  but  this  supremacy  need  not,  and  ought  not,  I 
think,  to  be  absolute  ;  and  monarchy,  and  an  aristocracy 
of  birth, — as  distinguished  from  one  of  wealth  or  of 
oflBce, — appear  to  me  to  be  two  precious  elements 
which  still  exist  in  most  parts  of  Europe,  and  to  lose 
which,  as  has  been  done  unavoidablv  in  America,  would 
be  rather  our  insanity  than  our  misfortune. 

There  is  nothing  so  revolutionary,  because  there  is 
nothing  so  unnatural  and  so  convulsive  to  society,  as 
the  strain  to  keep  things  fixed,  when  all  the  world  is 
by  the  very  law  of  its  creation  in  eternal  progress ;  and 
the  cause  of  all  the  evils  of  the  world  mav  be  traced 
to  that  natural  but  most  deadly  error  of  human 
indolence  and  corruption,  that  our  business  is  to 
preserve  and  not  to  improve.  It  is  the  ruin  of  us  all 
alike,  individuals,  schools,  and  nations. 

1829.    Life,  p.  196. 

6.  Instead  of  looking  upon  the  middle  ages  as  in  any 
degree  a  standard,  I  turn  instinctively  to  that  picture 
of  entire  perfection  which  the  Gospel  holds  out,  and 
from  which  I  cannot  but  think  that  the  state  of  things 
in  time  past  was  further  removed  even  than  ours  is 
now,  although  our  Utile  may  be  more  inexcusable  than 
their  less  was  in  them.  And,  in  particular,  I  confess, 
that  if  I  were  called  upon  to  name  what  spirit  of  evil 
predominantly  deserved  the  name  of  Antichrist,  I  should 
name  the  spirit  of  chivalry — the  more  detestable  for 

N 


«^r^ 


178 


EXTRACTS    FROM    THE   LIFE   AND    IFTTFRR. 


THEOLOGY. 


179 


the  very  guise  of  the  '*  Archangel  ruined,"  which  lias 
made  it  so  seductive  to  the  most  generous  spirits — but 
to  me  so  hateful,  because  it  is  in  direct  opposition  to 
the  impartial  justice  of  the  Gospel,  and  its  comprehen- 
sive feeling  of  equal  brotherhood,  and  because  it  so 
fostered  a  sense  of  honour  rather  than  a  sense  of  duty. 

1835.    Life,  p.  .tJ7. 

7.  Of  one  thing  I  am  clear,  that  if  ever  this  constitu- 
tion be  destroyed,  it  will  be  only  when  it  ought  to  be 
destroyed ;  when  evils  long  neglected,  and  good  long 
omitted,  will  have  brought  things  to  such  a  state,  that 
the  constitution  must  full  to  save  the  commonwealth, 
and  the  Church  of  England  perish  for  the  sake  of  the 
Church  of  Christ.  Search  and  look  whether  you  can 
find  that  any  constitution  was  ever  destroyed  from 
within  by  factions  or  discontent,  without  its  destruction 
having  been,  either  just  penally,  or  necessary,  because 
it  could  not  any  longer  answer  its  proper  purposes. 

1»15,    Lite,  p.  328. 

8.  .  .  .  I  am  delighted  that  you  like  Oxford,  nor 
am  I  the  least  afraid  of  your  liking  it  too  much.  It 
does  not  follow  because  one  admires  and  loves  the 
surpassing  beauty  of  the  place  and  its  associations,  or 
because  one  forms  in  it  the  most  valuable  and  most 
delightful  friendships,  that  therefore  one  is  to  uphold 
its  foolishness,  and  to  try  to  perpetuate  its  faults.  My 
love  for  any  place  or  person,  or  institution,  is  exactly 
the  measure  of  my  desire  to  reform  them ;  a  doctrine 
•  hich  seems  to  me  as  natural  now,  as  it  seemed  strange 

hen  I  was  a  child,  when  I  could  ^not  make  out,  how, 
i  my  mother  loved  me  more  than  strange  children,  she 


should  find  fault  with  me  and  not  with  them.  But  I 
do  not  think  this  ought  to  be  a  difficulty  to  any  one 
who  is  more  than  six  vears  old. 


THEOLOGY. 

1.  Evidences  of  Religion. 

Itun.    Life.  p. :«. 

1  fear  tiie  approach  of  a  greater  struggle  between 
good  and  evil  than  the  world  has  yet  seen,  in  which 
there  may  well  happen  the  greatest  trial  to  the  faith  of 
good  men  that  can  be  imagined,  if  the  greatest  talent 
and  ability  are  decidedly  on  the  side  of  their  adversaries, 
and  they  will  have  nothing  but  faith  and  holiness  to 
oppose  to  it.  Something  of  this  kind  may  have  been 
the  meaning  or  part  of  the  meaning  of  the  words,  ••  that 
by  signs  and  wonders  they  should  deceive  even  the 
elect."  What  I  should  be  afraid  of  would  be,  that  good 
men,  taking  alai*m  at  the  prevailing  spirit,  would  fear 
to  yield  even  points  they  could  not  maintain,  instead  of 
wisely  giving  them  up,  and  holding  on  where  they 
could. 

2.  Evidences  for  a  Person  professing  Atueistical 

Opinions. 

1K£>.     Lifp,  p.  246. 

The  subject  of  the  letter  which  I  have  had  the 
honour  of  receiving  from  you  has  so  high  a  claim  upon 
the  best  exertions  of  every  Christian,  that  I  can  only 
regret  my  inability  to   do  it  justice.     But  in  cases  of 

N  2 


i^ 


r^f- 


[■^ii- 


•  .       -"=4  fiSlB*i''  ■■    -'"<,'■-!  .ijii^&i 


•  3L-         --"J, 


/'SSikiSfi?" 


180 


EXTRACTS    FROM   THE    LIFE   AND    LETTERS. 


THEOLOGY. 


181 


raorrtl  or  intellectual  disorder,  no  less  than  of  bodily,  it 
is  difficult  to  prescribe  at  a  distance ;  so  much  must 
always  depend  on  the  particular  constitution  of  the 
individual,  and  the  peculiarly  weak  points  in  his 
character.  Nor  am  I  quite  sure  whether  the  case  you 
mention  is  one  of  absolute  Atheism,  or  of  Epicurism; 
that  is  to  say,  whether  it  be  a  denial  of  God's  existence 
altogether,  or  only  of  his  moral  government,  the  latter 
doctrine  beinj^.  I  believe,  a  favourite  resource  with 
those  who  cannot  evade  the  force  of  the  evidences  of 
design  in  the  works  of  Creation,  and  yet  cannot  bear  to 
entertain  that  strong  and  constant  sense  of  personal 
responsibility,  which  follows  from  the  notion  of  God  as 
a  moral  governor.  At  any  rate,  the  groat  thing  to 
ascertain  is,  what  led  to  his  present  state  of  opinions ; 
for  the  actual  arguments,  by  which  he  would  now  justify 
them,  are  of  much  less  consequence. 

The  proofs  of  an  intelligent  and  benevolent  Creator 
are  given  in  my  opinion  more  clearly  in  Paley8 
Natuml  Theologv,  than  in  anv  other  book  that  I  know, 
^  and  the  necessity  of  faith  arising  from  the  absurdity  of 
scepticism  on  the  one  hand,  and  of  dogmatism  on  the 
^  other,  is  shown  with  great  power  and  eloquence  in  the 
first  article  of  the  second  part  of  Pascal's  '*  Pensees." 

In  many  cases  the  real  origin  of  a  man's  irreligion 
•^  is,  I  believe,  political.  He  dislikes  the  actual  state  of 
society,  hates  the  Church  as  connected  with  it  and,  in 
his  notions,  supporting  its  abuses,  and  then  hates 
Christianity  because  it  is  taught  by  the  Church* 
Another  case  is,  when  a  man's  religious  practice  his 
degenerated,  when  he  has  been  less  watchful  of  himself 
and  less   constant   and   euruest  in  bis   desires.     The 


consequence  is,  that  his  impression  of  God's  real 
existence,  which  is  kept  up  by  practical  experience, 
becomes  fainter  and  fainter;  and  in  this  state  of  things 
it  is  merely  an  accident  that  he  remains  nominally  a 
Christian  ;  if  he  happens  to  fall  in  with  an  antichristian 
book,  he  will  have  nothing  in  his  own  experience  to  set 
against  the  difficulties  there  presented  to  him,  and  so 
he  will  be  apt  to  yield  to  them.  For  it  must  be  always 
understood  tliat  there  are  difficulties  in  the  way  of 
religion, — such,  for  instance,  as  the  existence  of  evil, — 
which  can  never  be  fairly  solved  by  human  powers  ;  all 
that  can  be  done  inteHectualbj  is  to  point  out  the  equal 
or  greater  difficulties  of  Atheism  or  scepticism ;  and 
this  is  enough  to  justify  a  good  mans  understanding  in 
being  a  believer.  But  the  real  proof  is  the  practical 
one;  that  is,  let  a  man  live  on  the  hypothesis  of  its 
falsehood,  the  practical  result  will  be  bad ;  that  is,  a 
man's  besetting  and  constitutional  faults  will  not  be 
checked;  and  some  of  his  noblest  feelings  will  be 
unexercised,  so  that  if  he  be  right  in  his  opinions,  truth 
and  goodness  are  at  variance  with  one  another,  and 
falsehood  is  more  favourable  to  our  moral  perfection 
than  truth ;  which  seems  the  most  monstrous  conclu- 
sion, which  the  human  mind  can  possibly  arrive  at.  It 
follows  from  this,  that  if  1  were  talking  with  an  Atheist, 
I  should  lay  a  great  deal  of  stress  on  faith  as  a  neces- 
sary condition  of  our  nature,  and  as  a  gift  of  God  to  be 
earnestly  sought  for  in  the  way  which  God  has  ap- 
pointed, that  is,  by  striving  to  do  his  will.  For  faith 
does  no  violence  to  our  understanding  ;  but  the  intellec- 
tual difficulties  being  balanced,  and  it  being  necessary 
to  act  on  the  one  side  or  the  other,  faith  determines  a 


^j'- 


■ft 
'  -  -■■*(. 


,='*if^'*>i.'.    . 


■K  .»  <-^V  -^1 


'.-^■K.y*4"L 


^^0iy^-;  'wp  v^^^s^^n^^ 


18*2 


EXTRACTS    Ti-Pnxr   JME    LIFE   AND    LETT£BS. 


THEOLOGY. 


183 


man  to  embrace  that  side  which  leads  to  moral  and 
practical  perfection  ;  and  unbelief  leads  him  to  embrace 
the  opposite,  or  what  I  may  call  the  Devil's  religion, 
which  is,  after  all,  quite  as  much  beset  with  intellectual 
diflBculiies  as  God  s  religion  is,  and  morally  is  nothing 
but  one  mass  of  difficulties  and  monstrosities.  You 
may  say  that  the  individual  in  question  is  a  moral  man, 
and  you  think  not  unwilling  to  be  convinced  of  his 
errors ;  that  is,  he  sees  the  moral  truth  of  Christianity 
but  cannot  be  persuaded  of  it  intellectually.  I  should 
say  that  such  a  state  of  mind  is  one  of  very  painful 
trial,  and  should  be  treated  as  such;  that  it  is  a  state  of 
mental  disease,  which  like  many  others  is  aggravated 
by  talking  about  it,  and  that  he  is  in  great  danger  of 
losing  his  perception  of  moral  truth  as  well  as  of 
intellectual,  of  wishing  Christianity  to  be  false  as  well 
as  of  being  unable  to  be  convinced  that  it  is  true. 
There  are  thousands  of  Christians  who  see  the  diffi- 
culties which  he  sees  quite  as  clearly  as  he  does,  and 
who  long  as  eagerly  as  he  can  do  for  that  time  when 
they  shall  know,  even  as  they  are  known.  But  then 
they  see  clearly  the  difficulties  of  unbelief,  and  know 
that  even  intellectually  they  are  far  greater.  And  in 
the  meanwhile  they  are  contented  to  live  by  faith,  and 
find  that  in  so  doing,  their  course  is  practically  one  of 
perfect  light;  the  moral  result  of  the  experiment  is  so 
abundantly  satisfactory,  that  they  are  sure  tlmt  they 
have  truth  on  their  side. 

I  confess  that  I  believe  conscientious  atheism  nut 
to  exist.  Weakness  of  faith  is  partly  constitutional, 
and  partly  the  result  of  education  and  other  circum- 
stances ;  and  this  may  go  intellectually  almost  as  far 


as  scepticism ;  that  is  to  say,  a  man  may  be  perfectly 
unable  to  acquire  a  firm  and  undoubting  belief  of  the 
great  truths  of  religion,  whether  natural  or  revealed. 
He  may  be  perplexed  with  doubts  all  his  days;  nay, 
his  fears  lest  the  Gospel  should  not  be  true,  may  be 
stronger  than  his  hopes  that  it  will.  And  this  is 
a  state  of  great  pain,  and  of  most  severe  trial,  to 
be  pitied  heartily,  but  not  to  be  condemned.  I  am 
satisfied  that  a  good  man  can  never  get  further  than 
this;  for  his  goodness  will  save  him  from  unbelief, 
though  not  from  the  misery  of  scanty  faith.  I  call 
it  unbelief,  when  a  man  deliberately  renounces  his 
obedience  to  God,  and  his  sense  of  responsibility  to 
Him :  and  this  never  can  be  without  something  of  an 
evil  heart  rebelling  against  a  yoke  which  it  does  not 
like  to  bear.  The  man  you  have  been  trying  to  con- 
vert stands  in  this  predicament : — he  says  that  he 
cannot  find  out  God,  and  that  he  does  not  believe  in 
Him  ;  therefore  he  renounces  His  service,  and  chooses 
to  make  a  god  of  himself.  Now,  the  idea  of  God 
being  no  other  than  a  combination  of  all  the  highest 
excellences  that  we  can  conceive,  it  is  so  delightful 
to  a  good  and  sound  mind,  that  it  is  misery  to  part 
with  it;  and  such  a  mind,  if  it  cannot  discern  God 
clearly,  concludes  that  the  fault  is  in  itself — that  it 
cannot  yet  reach  to  God.  not  that  God  does  not  exist. 
You  see  there  must  be  an  assumption  in  either  case, 
for  the  thing  does  not  admit  of  demonstration,  and  the 
assumption  that  God  is,  or  is  not,  depends  on  the 
degree  of  moral  pain,  which  a  man  feels  in  relinquish- 
ing the  idea  of  God.  And  here,  I  think,  is  the  moral 
fault  of  unbelief: — that  a  man  can  bear  to  make  so 


^vrff^^ 


184         EXTRACTS   FROM   THE    LIFE    AND    I.F!TTrn<;. 

great  a  moral  sacrifice,  as  is  implied  in  renouncing 
God.  He  makes  the  greatest  moral  sacrifice  to  obtain 
partial  satisfaction  to  his  intellect:  a  believer  ensures 
the  greatest  moral  perfection,  with  partial  satisfaction 
to  his  intellect  also ;  entire  satisfaction  to  the  intellect 
is,  and  can  be  attained  by  neither.  Thus,  then,  I 
believe,  generally,  that  he  who  has  rejected  God,  must 
be  morally  faulty,  and  therefore  justly  liable  to  punish- 
ment. But,  of  course,  no  man  can  dare  to  apply  this  to 
any  particular  case,  because  our  moral  faults  themselves 
are  so  lessened  or  aggravated  by  circumstances  to  be 
known  only  by  Him  who  sees  the  heart,  that  the  judg- 
ment of  those  who  see  the  outward  conduct  only,  must 
ever  be  given  in  ignorance. 

3.  Evidences  for  a  Person  distressed  by  Sceptical 

Doubts. 

1833.    Lifr,  p.  33S. 

The  more  I  think  of  the  matter  the  more  I  am 
satisfied  that  i\l\  si)eculations  of  the  kind  in  question 
are  to  be  repressed  by  the  will,  and  if  they  haunt  us, 
notwithstanding  the  efforts  of  our  will,  that  then  they 
are  to  be  prayed  against,  and  silently  endured  as  a  trial. 
I  mean  speculations  turning  upon  things  wholly  beyond 
our  reach,  and  where  the  utmost  conceivable  result 
cannot  be  truth,  but  additional  perplexity.  Such  must 
be  the  question  as  to  the  origin  and  continued  existence 
of  moral  evil ;  which  is  a  question  utterly  out  of  our 
reach,  as  we  know  and  can  know  nothing  of  the  system 
of  the  universe,  and  which  can  never  bring  us  to  truth, 
because  if  we  adopt  one  hypothesis  as  certain,  and 
come  to  a  conclusion  upon  one  theory,  we  shall  be  met 


theology. 


185 


by  difficulties  quite  as  insuperable  on  the  other  side, 
which  would  oblige  us  in  fairness,  to  go  over  the  process 
again,  and  to  reject  our  new  conclusion,  as  we  had  done 
our  old  one ;  because  in  our  total  ignorance  of  the 
matter,  there  will  always  be  difficulties  in  the  way 
of  any  hypothesis  which  we  cannot  answer,  and  which 
will  effectually  preclude  our  ever  arriving  at  a  state 
of  intellectual  satisfaction,  such  as  consists  in  having  a 
clear  view  of  a  whole  question  from  first  to  last,  and 
seeing  that  the  premises  are  true,  the  conclusion  fairly 
drawn,  and  that  all  objections  to  either  may  be  satis- 
factorily answered.  This  state,  which  alone  I  suppose 
deserves  to  be  called  knowledge,  is  one  which,  if  we 
can  ever  attain  it,  is  attainable  only  in  matters  merely 
human,  and  only  within  the  range  of  our  understand- 
ing and  experience.  It  is  manifest  that  the  sole  diffi- 
culty in  the  subject  of  your  perplexity  is  merely  the 
origin  of  moral  evil,  and  it  is  manifest  also  that  this 
difficulty  equally  affects  things  actually  existing  around 
us.  Yet  if  the  sight  of  wickedness  in  ourselves  or 
others  were  to  lead  us  to  perplex  ourselves  as  to  its 
origin,  instead  of  struggling  against  it  and  attempting 
to  put  an  end  to  it,  we  know  that  we  should  be  wrong, 
imd  that  evil  would  thrive  and  multiply  on  such  a 
system  of  conduct. 

This  would  have  been  the  language  of  a  heathen 
Stoic  or  Academician,  when  an  Epicurean  beset  him 
with  the  difficulty  of  accounting  for  evil  without  im- 
pugning the  power  or  the  goodness  of  the  gods.  And 
I  think  that  this  language  was  sound  and  practically 
convincing,  quite  enough  so  to  show  that  the  Epicurean 
objection  sets  one  upon  an  error,  because  it  leads  to 


"£&*■'■. 


m.. 


->i>  j  "■' 


■^•r?'c 


186 


EXTRACTS   FBOM  THE  LIFE  AST)   TPTTTn<;. 


TnEOLOGY. 


187 


practical  absurdity  and  wickedness.  But  I  think  that 
with  us  the  authority  of  Christ  puts  things  on  a  diffe- 
rent footing.  I  know  nothing  about  the  origin  of  evil, 
but  I  believe  that  Christ  did  know ;  and  as  our  com- 
mon sense  tells  us,  that  we  can  strive  against  evil  and 
sympathize  in  punishment  here,  although  we  cannot 
tell  how  there  comes  to  be  evil,  so  Christ  tells  us  that 
we  may  continue  these  same  feelings  to  the  state 
beyond  this  life,  although  the  origin  of  evil  is  still 
a  secret  to  us.  And  I  know  Christ  to  have  been  so 
wise  and  so  loving  to  men,  that  1  am  sure  I  may 
trust  His  word,  and  that  what  was  entirely  agreeable 
to  His  sense  of  justice  and  goodness,  cannot,  unless 
through  my  own  defect,  be  other%vise  than  agreeable  to 
mine. 

Further,  when  I  find  Him  repelling  all  questions  of 
curiosity,  and  reproving  in  particular  such  as  had  a 
tendency  to  lead  men  away  from  their  great  business, — 
the  doing  good  to  themselves  and  others, — I  am  sure 
that  if  I  stood  before  Him,  and  said  to  Him,  '*Lord, 
what  can  I  do  ?  for  I  cannot  understand  how  God  can 
allow  any  to  be  wicked,  or  why  He  should  not  destroy 
them,  rather  than  let  them  exist  to  suffer;"  that  His 
mildest  answer  would  be,  *'What  is  that  to  thee — 
follow  thou  me."  But  if  He,  who  can  read  the  heart, 
knew  that  there  was  in  the  doubt  so  expressed  anything 
of  an  evil  heart  of  unbelief — of  unbelief  that  had 
grown  out  of  carelessness  and  from  my  not  having 
walked  watchfully  after  Him,  loving  Him,  and  doing 
His  will,— then  I  should  expect  that  He  would  tell  me, 
that  this  thought  had  come  to  me,  because  I  neither 
knew  Him  nor  His   Father,  but   had  neglected  and 


been  indifferent  to  both ;  and  then  I  should  be  sure 
that  He  would  give  me  no  explanation  or  light  at  all, 
but  would  rather  make  the  darkness  thicker  upon  me, 
till  I  came  before  Him,  not  with  a  speculative  doubt, 
but  with  an  earnest  prayer  for  His  mercy  and  His  help, 
,.;.a  with  a  desire  to  walk  humbly  before  Him,  and  to  do 
His  will,  and  promote  His  kingdom.  This,  I  believe, 
is  the  only  way  to  deal  with  those  disturbances  of  mind 
which  cannot  lead  to  tnith,  but  only  to  perplexity. 
Many  pei"sons,  I  am  inclined  to  think,  endure  some 
of  these  to  their  dying  day,  well  aware  of  their  nature, 
and  not  sanctioning  them  by  their  will,  but  unable 
to  shake  them  off,  and  enduring  them  as  a  real  thorn 
in  the  flesh,  as  they  would  endure  the  far  lighter 
trials  of  sickness  or  outward  affliction.  But  they 
should  be  kept,  I  think,  to  ourselves,  and  not  udked  of 
even  to  our  nearest  friends,  when  we  once  understand 
their  true  nature.  Talking  about  them  gives  them 
a  sort  of  reality  which  otherwise  they  would  not  have  ; 
just  like  talking  about  our  dreams.  We  should  act 
and  speak,  and  try  to  feel  as  if  they  had  no  existence, 
and  then  in  most  cases  they  do  cease  to  exist  after 
a  time ;  when  they  do  not,  they  are  harmless  to  our 
spiritual  nature,  although  I  fully  believe  that  they  are 
the  most  grievous  affliction  with  which  human  nature  is 
visited. 

Of  course,  what  I  have  here  said  relates  only  to 
such  questions  as  cannot  possibly  be  so  answered  as  to 
produce  even  entire  intellectual  satisfaction,  much  less 
moral  advantage.  I  hold  that  Atheism  and  pure  Scepti- 
cism are  both  systems  of  absurdity;  which  involves 
the  condemnation  of  hypotheses  leading  to  either  of 


V    ■ 


■'--.■s\A!- 


K. 


1^^         EXTRACTS    FROM   THE    LIFE   AND    LETTERS. 

them  as  conclusions.  For  Atheism  separates  truth  from 
goodness,  and  Scepticism  destroys  truth  altogetlier; 
both  of  which  are  monstrosities,  from  which  we  should 
revolt  as  from  a  real  madness.  With  my  earnest  hoi^ea 
and  pmyers  that  you  may  bo  relieved  from  what  I 
know  to  be  the  greatest  of  earthly  trials,  but  with 
a  no  less  earnest  advice,  that,  if  it  does  continue,  you 
will  treat  it  as  a  trial,  and  only  cling  the  closer,  as  it 
were,  to  that  perfect  Saviour,  in  the  entire  love  and 
truth  of  whose  nature  all  doubt  seems  to  melt  away, 
and  who,  if  kept  steadily  before  our  minds,  is,  I  be- 
lieve, most  literally  our  Bread  of  Life,  giving  strength 
and  peace  to  our  weakness  and  distractions. 

4.  Internal  Evidence. 

IMO.    Lift* ,  p.  SXU 

You  complain  of  those  persons  who  judf»e  of  a 
Revelation  not  by  its  evidence,  but  by  its  substance. 
It  hiis  always  seemed  to  me  that  its  subs tii nee  is  a 
most  essential  part  of  its  evidence ;  and  that  miracles 
wrought  in  favour  of  what  was  foolish  or  wicked,  would 
only  prove  Manicheism.  We  are  so  perfectly  ignorant 
of  the  unseen  world,  that  the  character  of  any  super- 
natural power  can  be  only  judged  of  by  the  moral 
character  of  the  statements  which  it  sanctions:  thus 
only  can  we  tell  whether  it  be  a  revelation  from  God, 
or  from  the  Devil.  If  his  father  tells  a  child  some- 
thing which  seems  to  him  monstrous,  faith  requires 
him  to  submit  his  own  judgment,  because  he  knows  his 
father's  person,  and  is  sure,  therefore,  that  his  father 
tells  it  him.     But  we  cannot  thus  know  God,  and  can 


theology. 


189 


only  recognise  His  voice  by  the  words  spoken  being  in 
agreement  with  our  idea  of  His  moral  nature. 


5.  Evidence  of  Martyrs. 

\m-2.    Life,  p.  57:1. 

Neither  pliilosophers  nor  the  Christian  martyrs 
believed  in  the  established  religion, — but  the  philo- 
sophers and  augurs  worshipped  and  sacrificed  because 
they  thought  it  convenient  to  uphold  the  "  institutii 
majorum  ;" — just  as  in  Roman  Catholic  countries  there 
are  to  be  found  men  who  would  laugh  at  the  most 
solemn  parts  of  the  service,  at  the  mass  itself — who 
would  bum  a  Protestant,  but  who  believe  in  Christ  just 
ur?  much  as  Cicero  believed  in  Ilim.  But  they  could 
not  understand  why  the  Christians  would  not  act  as 
they  did — they  had  no  notion  of  men  dying  rather  than 
act  a  lie  and  deny  what  they  were  certain  was  a  truth. 
It  is  this  which  shows  us  what  martyrdom  really  was, 
antl  in  what  the  nobleness  of  the  martyrs  consisted — 
in  that  they  would  die  sooner  than  by  their  slightest 
action  assist  in  what  they  felt  to  be  a  lie  and  a  mockery. 

6.  Utilitarianism. 

»£«.    Life,  p.  SOU. 

Utilitarianism  is  the  idea  which,  hardly  hovering 
on  the  remotest  outskirts  of  Christianity,  readily  flies 
off  to  the  camp  of  Materialism  and  Atheism  ;  the 
mere  pared  and  plucked  notion  of  "  good "  exhibited 
by  the  word  "useful;"  which  seems  to  me  the  idea 
of  "good"  robbed  of  its  nobleness, — the  sediment 
from  which   the  filtered  water  has   been  assiduously 


l^.--  ■. 


-..;  * 

■«!%♦.. 


i^.^t^^ 


100         EXTRACTS   FROM   THE    LIFE   AND   LETTERS. 

separated.  It  were  a  strange  world,  if  there  were 
indeed  in  it  no  one  a^x*'^ •*'»'«"«*»  "^<»?  but  that  of 
the  |tJ/xp^o> ;  if  xxXoy  were  only  KaXo»,  ©t*  |t'a^iPo>. 
But  this  is  one  of  the  peculiarities  of  the  English 
mind;  the  Puritan  and  the  Benthamite  have  an  im- 
mense part  of  their  nature  in  common ;  and  thus  the 
Christianity  of  the  Puritan  is  coarse  and  fanatical; 
— he  cannot  relish  what  there  is  in  it  of  beautiful 
or  delicate  or  ideal.  Men  get  embarrassed  by  the 
common  cases  of  a  misguided  conscience ;  but  a  com- 
pass may  be  out  of  order  as  well  as  a  conscience,  and 
the  needle  may  point  due  south  if  you  hold  a  powerful 
magnet  in  that  direction.  Still  the  compass,  generally 
speaking,  is  a  true  and  sure  guide,  and  so  is  the 
conscience ;  and  you  can  trace  the  deranging  intluence 
on  the  latter  quite  as  surely  as  on  the  former.  Again, 
there  is  confu&ion  in  some  men  s  minds,  who  say  that, 
if  we  so  exalt  conscience,  we  make  ourselves  the  para- 
mount judges  of  all  things,  and  so  do  not  live  by  faith 
and  obedience.  But  he  who  believes  his  conscience  to  be 
God's  law,  by  obeying  it  obeys  God.  It  is  as  much 
obedience,  as  it  is  obedience  to  follow  the  dictates  of 
God's  spirit;  and  in  every  case  of  obedience  to  any 
law  or  guide  whatsoever,  there  always  must  be  one 
independent  act  of  the  mind  pronouncing  this  one 
determining  proposition,  "I  ought  to  obey;"  so  that 
in  obedience,  as  in  every  moral  act,  we  are  and  must 
be  the  paramount  judges,  because  we  must  ourselves 
decide  on  that  very  principle,  •'  that  we  ought  to  obey.** 
7.  Rationalism. — It  is  not  scriptural,  but  fanatical, 
to  oppose  faith  to  reason.  Faith  is  properly  opposed  to 
sense,  and  is  the  listening  to  the  dictates  of  the  higher 


THEOLOGY. 


101 


part  of  our  mind,  to  which  alone  God  speaks,  rather 
than  to  the  lower  part  of  us,  to  which  the  world  speaks.  ' 
There  is  no  end  to  the  mischiefs  done  by  that  one 
very  common  and  perfectly  un scriptural  mistake  of 
opposing  faith  and  reason,  or  whatever  you  choose 
to  call  the  higher  part  of  man  s  nature.  And  this 
the  Scripture  never  does.  Rationalism,  in  order  to  be 
contrasted  scripturally  with  faith,  must  mean  the 
following  some  lower  part  of  our  nature,  whether 
sensual  or  merely  intellectual ; — that  is,  some  part 
which  does  not  acknowledge  God.  But  what  is  often 
attacked  as  Rationalism  is  just  what  the  Scripture 
commends  as  knowledge,  judgment,  understanding, 
and  the  like ;  that  is,  not  the  following  a  merely  intel- 
lectual part  of  our  nature,  but  the  sovereign  part; — 
that  is,  the  moral  reason  acting  under  God,  and  using, 
so  to  speak,  the  telescope  of  faith,  for  objects  too 
distant  for  its  naked  eye  to  discover.  And  to  this  is 
opposed,  in  scriptural  language,  folly  and  idolatry,  and 
blindness,  and  other  such  terms  of  reproof.  Either  the 
forty-fourth  chapter  of  Isaiah  is  Rationalism,  and  the 
man  who  bowed  down  to  the  stock  of  a  tree  was  a 
humble  man,  who  did  not  enquire  but  believe ;  or,  if 
Isaiah  be  right,  and  speaks  the  words  of  God,  then  we 
an«l  the  man  who  bowed  down  to  the  stock  of  a  tree, 
should  leani  that  God  is  not  served  by  folly. 

8.  Fakaticish. 

ISM.  life,  p.  380. 

There    is    an    ascending    scale   from    the   grossest 
personal  selfishness,  such  as  that  of  Caesar  or  Napoleon, 


-  ■^^^^P^^-?^'«lf %^^^p^ 


192         EXTRACTS    FHOM   THE   LIFE   AND    LETTERS. 

to  party  solfislmess.  such  ns  that  of  Sylla,  or  fanatical 
selfishness,  that  is  the  idolatry  of  an  idea  or  a  principle, 
such  as  that  of  Robespierre  and  Dominic,  and  some  of 
the  Covenanters.  In  all  these,  except  perhaps  the 
first,  we  feel  a  sympathy  more  or  less,  because  there  is 
something  of  personal  self-devotion  and  sincerity;  but 
fanaticism  is  idolatry,  and  it  has  the  moral  evil  of 
idolatry  in  it,  tliat  is,  a  fanatic  worships  something 
which  is  the  creature  of  his  own  devices,  and  thus  even 
his  self-devotion  in  support  of  it  is  only  an  apparent 
self-sacriHce,  for  it  is  in  fact  making  the  parts  of  his 
nature  or  his  mind,  which  he  least  values,  offer  sacrifice 
to  that  which  he  most  values.  The  moral  fault,  as  it 
appears  to  me,  is  in  the  idolatry,— the  setting  up  some 
idea  >\hich  is  most  kindred  to  our  own  minds,  and  then 
putting  it  in  the  place  of  Christ,  who  alone  cannot  be 
made  an  idol,  and  cannot  inspire  fanaticism,  because 
He  combines  all  ideas  of  perfection,  and  exliibits  them 
in  their  just  harmony  and  combination.  Now  to  mv 
own  mind,  by  its  natural  tendency, — that  is,  taking  my 
mind  at  its  best,— truth  and  justice  would  be  the  idols, 
that  I  should  follow;  and  they  would  be  idols,  for  they 
would  not  supply  all  the  food  that  the  mind  wants,  and, 
whilst  worshipping  them,  reverence  and  humility  and 
tenderness  might  very  likely  be  forgotten.  But  Christ 
Himself  includes  at  once  truth  and  justice,  and  all 

these   other   qualities   too The  unreserved 

worship  of  imperfect  ideas  unavoidably  tends  to  the 
neglect  of  other  ideas  no  less  important;  and  thence 
some  passion  or  other  loses  its  proper  and  intended 
check,  and  the  moral  evil  follows.  Thus  it  is  that 
narrow-mindedness    tends    to    wickedness,   because   it 


■■    V' 


THEOLOGY. 


193 


does  not  extend  its  watchfulness  to  every  part  of 
our  moral  nature,  for  then  it  would  not  be  narrow- 
mindedness;  and  this  neglect  fosters  the  growth  of 
ovil  in  the  parts  that  are  so  neglected.  Thus  a  man 
may  "give  all  his  goods  to  feed  the  poor,  and  yet  be 
nothing ; "  where  1  do  not  understand  it  of  giving  out 
of  mere  ostentation,  or  with  a  view  to  gain  influence, 
but  that  a  man  may  have  one  or  more  virtues,  such  as 
lire  according  to  his  favourite  ideas,  in  very  great 
perfection,  and  still  be  nothing;  because  these  ideas 
are  his  idols,  and,  worshipping  them  with  all  his  heart, 
there  is  a  portion  of  his  heart,  more  or  less  consider- 
able, left  without  its  proper  object,  guide,  and  nourish- 
ment, and  so  this  portion  is  left  to  the  dominion  of 
evil.  Other  men,  and  these  the  mass  of  mankind,  go 
wrong  either  from  having  no  favourite  ideas  at  all,  and 
living  wholly  at  random,  or  rr^U  r^&vnv, — or  else  from 
having  ideas  but  indistinctly,  and  paying  them  but 
little  worship,  so  that  here  too  the  common  world  about 
them  gives  the  impression  to  their  minds,  and  thus 
they  are  evil.  But  the  best  men,  I  think,  are  those 
who  worshipping  Christ  and  no  idol,  and  thus  having 
got  hold  of  the  true  idea,  yet  from  want  of  faith  cannot 
always  realize  it,  and  so  have  parts  of  their  lives  more 
or  less  out  of  that  influence  which  should  keep  them 
right,— and  thus  they  also  fall  into  evil ;  but  they  are 
the  best,  because  they  have  set  before  them  Christ  and 
no  idol,  and  thus  have  nothing  to  cast  away,  but  need 
only  to  impress  themselves  with  their  ideas  more 
constantly ;  '*  they  need  not  save  to  wash  the  feet,  and 
are  then  clean  every  whit"  .... 


^"^K 


rs?*p-:".- 


9-T!fi    •'sy    -'■■«S^ 


194 


KXTRACTS   FROM   THE   LIFE  AND   LETTERS. 


9.  The  life  and  character  of  Robespierre  has  to  me 
a  most  importaut  lessou :  it  shows  the  frightful  conse- 
quences of  making  everything  give  way  to  a  favourite 
notion.  The  man  was  a  just  man,  and  humane 
naturally,  hut  he  would  narrow  everylhing  to  meet  his 
own  views,  and  nothing  could  check  him  at  last.  It  is 
a  most  solemn  warning  to  us  of  what  fanaticism  may 
lead  to  iu  God's  world 

English  Divines. 

i83G.     Life.  p.  400. 

10 I   wish    I  could  sympathize  with  you 

in  what  you  say  of  our  old  Divines.  I  quite  agree  as 
to  their  language ;  it  is  delightful  to  my  taste ;  but  I 
cannot  find  in  any  of  them  a  really  great  man.  I 
admire  Taylor's  genius,  but  yet  how  little  was  he 
capable  of  handling  worthily  any  great  question?  and, 
as  to  interpreters  of  Scripture,  I  never  yet  found  one 
of  them  who  was  above  mediocritv.  I  cannot  call  it 
a  learning  worth  anything,  to  be  very  familiar  with 
writers  of  this  stamp,  when  they  have  no  facts  to 
communicate ;  for,  of  course,  even  an  ordinary  man 
may  then  be  worth  reading.  I  have  left  off  reading 
our  Divines,  because  as  Pascal  said  of  the  Jesuits,  if  I 
had  spent  my  time  in  reading  them  fully,  I  should 
have  read  a  great  many  very  inditTerent  books.  But  if 
I  could  tind  a  great  man  amongst  them,  I  would  read 
him  thankfully  and  earnestly.  As  it  is,  I  hold  John 
Bunyan  to  have  been  a  man  of  incomparably  greater 
genius  than  any  of  them,  and  to  have  given  a  far  truer 
and  more  edifying  picture  of  Christianity.  His  Pil- 
grim's Progress  seems  to  be  a  complete  reflection  of 


THEOLOGY. 


195 


Scripture,  with  none  of  the  rubbish  of  the  theologians 
mL\ed  up  with  it.  I  think  that  Milton,  in  his  "  Refor- 
mation in  England,"  or  in  one  of  his  Tracts, — I  forget 
which, — treats  the  Church  writers  of  his  time,  and 
tlu'ir  show  of  learning,  utterly  uncritical  as  it  was,  with 
the  feeling  which  they  deserved. 

Why  is  it  that  there  are  so  few  great  works  in 
Theology  compared  with  any  other  subject?  Is  it 
that  all  other  books  on  the  subject  appear  insignificant 
by  the  side  of  the  Scriptures  ?  There  appears  to  me 
iu  all  the  English  divines  a  want  of  believing,  or 
disbelieving  anything,  because  it  is  true  or  false. 
It  is  a  question  which  does  not  seem  to  occur  to  them. 
Butler  is  indeed  a  noble  exception. 

11.  Hooker. — I  long  to  see  something  whicli  should 
solve  what  is  to  me  the  great  problem  of  Hooker's 
mind.  He  is  the  onlv  man  that  I  know,  who,  holding 
with  his  whole  mind  and  soul  the  idea  of  the  eternal 
distinction  between  moral  and  positive  laws,  holds  with 
it  the  love  for  a  priestly  and  ceremonial  religion,  such 
as  appears  in  the  Fifth  Book. 

12.  Bunyan. — I  cannot  trust  mvself  to  read  the 
account  of   Chiustian  going  up  to  the  Celestial  gate, 

after  his  passage  through  the  river  of  death 

1  have  always  been  struck  by  the  piety  of  the  Pilgrim's 
Progress :  I  am  now  struck  equally,  or  even  more,  by 
its  profound  wisdom. 

13.  Unitarl\nism. 

mas.    Life,  p.  'JTS. 

My  great  objection  to  Unitarianism  in  its  present 
form  in  England,  where  it  is  professed  sincerely,  is 

0  2 


*'k* 


sf«-s 


100 


EXTRACTS  FROM  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS. 


THEOLOGY. 


197 


that  it  makes  Christ  virtually  dead.  Our  n?lation  to 
Him   is  past   instead  of    present ;  and   the  result  i? 

^  notorious,  that  instead  of  doing  everything  in  the 
name  of  the  Lord  Jesus,  the  language  of  rnitariaus 
loses  this  peculiarly  Christian  character,  and  assimilates 
to  that  of  mere  Deists  ;  •'  Providence."  the  '*  Supreme 
Being,"  and  other  such  expressions  taking  the  place  of 
"God,  the  Father  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,"  "the 
Lord,"  (fee,  which  other  Christians,  like  the  Apostles. 
have  found  at  once  most  natural  to  them,  and  most 
delightful.  For  my  own  part,  considering  one  great 
ohject  of  God's  revealing  Himself  in  the  Pereon  of 
Christ  to  he  the  furnishing  us  with  an  ohject  of 
worship  which  we  could  at  once  love  and  understand ; 
or,  in  other  words,  the  supplying  safely  and  wholc- 
somelv  that  want  in  human  nature,  which  has  shown 
itself  in  false  religions,  in  "  making  gods  after  our  own 
devices,"  it  does  seem  to  me  to  be  forfeiting  the 
peculiar  benefits  thus  otTered,  if  we  persist  in  attempt- 
ing to  approach  to  God  in  His  own  incomprehensible 
essence,  which  as  no  man  hath  seen  or  can  see,  so 
no  man  can  conceive  it.  And,  while  I  am  most  rea«ly 
to  allow  the  provoking  and  most  ill-judged  language  in 
which  the  truth,  as  I  hold  it  to  be,  respecting  God  has 
been  expressed  by  Trinitarians,  so,  on  the  other  hand, 
I  am  inclined  to  think  that  Unitarians  have  deceived 

/  themselves  by  fancying  that  they  could  understand  the 
notion  of  one  God  any  better  than  that  of  God  in 

j    Christ:    whereas,  it  seems  to   me,  that   it  is  only  of 

I  God  in  Christ  that  I  can  in  my  present  state  of  being 
conceive  anything  at  all.  To  know  God  the  Father, 
that  is,  God  as  He  is  in  Himself,  in  His  to  us  incom- 


prehensible essence,  seems  the  great  and  most  blessed 
promise  reserved  for  us  when  this  mortal  shall  have  put 
ou  immortality. 

14.  Dissent. 

1S41.    Life,  p.  505. 

T  think  the  existence  of  Dissent  a  great  evil,  and 
1  believe  my  inclinations  as  little  lead  me  to  the  Dis- 
senters as  any  man's  living.  But  I  do  not  think  in  the 
tii-st  place,  that  the  Christian  unity  of  which  our  Lord 
and  His  Apostles  speak  so  earnestly,  is  an  unity  of 
government, — or  that  national  churches,  each  sovereign, 
or  churches  of  a  less  wide  extent  tlian  national,  each 
equally  sovereign,  are  a  breach  of  unity  necessarily; 
and  again,  if  Dissent  as  it  exists  in  England  were 
a  breach  of  unitv,  then  there  comes  the  historical 
question,  whose  fault  the  breach  is  ?  and  that  question 
is  not  to  be  answered  summarily,  nor  will  the  true 
answer  ever  lav  all  the  blame  on  the  Dissenters,  I 
think  not  so  much  as  half  of  it. 

15.  Scholastic  Theology. 

lS:tO.     Lifts  p.  :W9. 

It  will  never  do  to  judge  a  man,  not  for  the  opinions 
which  he  holds,  but  for  the  degree  of  condemnation 
which  he  passes  on  the  opposite  opinions,  o  ^ev  %ax«- 

TraiiWK   irioTO^   ctil    S    o     avTiXi'^wv  av'v  t/rroTrTo;,      hJut    tO 

whom  are  they  %\enoi  and  viroTrToi?  Not  to  the  wise 
and  good,  but  to  the  unprincipled  or  fanatical  partisan, 
who  knows  not  what  truth  and  goodness  are.  Poor 
Jeremy  Taylor  understood  well  this  intolerance  of  tole- 


:--i.  s-.".  •- 


k^Cr^^^t^^W^l^l't^^Ti'^i^^-^^^^^  '■■:^H^^*'--~'^^^-  ■ 


?»?; 


*4/'*'T^T*^'     i 


'  **»is»a;iasB*i4w«saSkl2fi>^^    ' 


->-,*■6•>MJ■.--^- 


^-m 


s-'-'d 


yw:-n\';f:':yn?^^: 


^?.f??4-- 


108         EXTRACTS    FROM    THE   LIFE    AND    LETTERS. 

ration,  when  he  thought  it  necessary  to  append  to  his 
Liberty  of  Prophesying  a  long  argument  against  the 
tmth  of  the  Baptist  opinions,  because  he  had  been  ear- 
nestly arguing  that,  although  untrue,  they  were  neither 
punisliiible  nor  damnable.  You  have  always  heard  me. 
and  I  hope  I  shall  always  be  heard,  to  insist  upon  the 
Divinity  of  Christ  as  the  great  point  of  Christianity: 
but  it  is  because  I  think  that  the  Scholastic  Theology 
has  obscured  and  excited  a  prejudice  against  it,  that  I 
am  rather  thankful  myself  for  having  been  enabled  to 
receive  Scripture  truth  in  spite  of  the  wrapping  which 
has  been  put  around  it,  than  I  can  condemn  those  who 
throw  away  the  wrapping,  and  cannot  conceive  that 
beneath  a  shell  so  worthless,  there  can  lurk  so  divine  a 
kernel. 

16.  Commentary  on  the  Scriptures. 

1W2.   Llf(P,  p.  aic. 

I  think  I  see  the  possibility  of  a  true  comprehensive 
Christian  Commentary,  keeping  back  none  of  the 
counsel  of  God,  lowering  no  truth,  chilling  no  lofty 
or  spiritual  sentiment,  yet  neither  silly,  fanatical,  nor 
sectarian.  I  know  of  nothing  more  urgent  than  to 
circulate  such  an  edition  of  the  Scriptures,  as  might 
labour,  with  God's  help,  to  give  their  very  express 
image  without  human  addition  or  omission,  striving  to 
state  clearly  what  is  God's  will  with  regard  to  us  now; 
for  this  seems  to  me  to  be  one  great  use  of  a  commen- 
tary, to  make  people  understand  where  God  spoke  to 
their  fathers,  and  where  he  speaks  to  them ;  or  rather, 
— since  in  all  he  speaks  to  them,  though  not  after 


THEOLOGY. 


199 


the  same  manner, — to  teach  them  to  distinguish  where 
thcv  are  to  follow  the  letter,  and  where  the  spirit. 

17.  Truths  of  Revelation. 

lt*40.    Lifts  p.  282. 

The  truths  of  Revelation  are  placed  before  us  in 
Scripture  as  very  vivid  images  are  sometimes  presented 
to  us  in  dreams.  It  is  like  a  secluded  spot  near  a  large 
city,  where,  when  we  stand  in  one  particular  spot,  all 
human  habitations  are  shut  out  from  our  view — but  by 
a  single  step  we  come  again  within  sight  of  them,  and 
lose  the  image  of  perfect  solitude.  So  it  is  in  the  scrip- 
tural statements  of  the  Atonement — as  long  as  we  can 
place  ourselves  exactly  in  that  point  of  view,  and  catch 
it  as  it  is  presented  to  us  in  this  dreamlike  fashion,  none 
of  the  false  views  which  so  often  beset  it  can  come 
across  us :  the  highest  act  of  love  is  the  sacrifice  of 
self— the  highest  act  of  God's  infinite  love  to  man  was 
in  the  Redemption — but  from  the  inedible  mystery 
which  hangs  over  the  Godhead,  God  could  not  be  said 
to  sacrifice  Himself ;— and  therefore  He  sacrificed  His 
only  Son— that  object  which  was  so  near  and  so  dear  to 
Him,  that  nothing  could  be  nearer  and  dearer. 

18.  The  Prophets. 

1831.    Life,  p.  227. 

If  you  read  Isaiah,  chap  v.  iii.  xxxii. ;  Jeremiah, 
chap.  V.  xxii.  xxx. ;  Amos  iv. ;  Habakkuk  ii. ;  and 
the  Epistle  of  St.  James,  written  to  the  same  people  a 
littlp  before  the  second  destruction  of  Jerusalem,  you 


^4 


|.~«h/«'"9 


200 


EXTRACl'S   FROM   THE    LIFE   AND    LETTERS. 


will  be  struck,  I  think,  with  the  close  resemblance  of 
our  own  state  to  that  of  the  Jews ;  while  the  state  of 
the  Greek  Churches  to  whom  St.  Paul  wrote  is  wholly 
different,  because  from  their  thin  population  and  better 
political  circumstiinces,  poverty  among  them  is  hardly 
noticed,  and  our  duties  to  the  poor  are  consequently 
much  less  prominently  brought  forward.  And  un- 
luckily our  Evangelicals  read  St.  Paul  more  than  any 
other  part  of  the  Scriptures,  and  think  very  little 
of  consulting  most  those  parts  of  Scripture  which  are 
addressed  to  persons  circumstanced  most  like  ourselves. 

« 

10.  The  Apocalypse. 

1H3S.     Lifi*.  p.  i%)o. 

The  Babylon  of  the  Revelations  is  chiefly  taken 
from  the  Babylon  of  the  Old  Testament,  which  it 
resembles  in  pride  of  power,  whilst  the  images  of 
wealth  are  from  Tyre.  Pagan  Rome,  no  doubt,  was 
the  immediate  object — as  it  is  said,  "  the  city  on  the 
seven  hills,"  then  answering  in  power  and  wealth  to  the 
city  here  described.  But  in  the  higher  sense  it  is  the 
world — 0  xo<r/xo« ;  and  wherever  a  worldly  spirit  prevails, 
there,  in  some  sense,  is  Babylon.  Thus,  Rev.  xviii.  4 
is  another  mode  of  expressing  Rom.  xii.  2,  and 
Rev.  xviii.  24  expresses  in  other  words  I  John  iii.  13, 

John  XV.  10 The  great  secret  of  iuterpretmg 

the  Revelations  is,  to  trace  the  images  back  to  their 
first  appearance  in  the  Old  Testament  Prophets.  What 
to  me  is  a  decisive  pix^of  of  the  falsehood  of  the  usual 
commentaries  on  the  Apooalypjie  is,  that  the  history 
which  they  present  of  the  middle  ages,  and  of  Europe 


theology. 


201 


generally,  is  such  as  no  one  in  his  senses  fairly  reading 
that  history  would  find  tliere. 

20.  Christian  Union. 

1H».(.    Life,  p.  26<J. 

It  grieves  me  more  than  1  can  say  to  find  so  much 
intolerance;  by  which  I  mean  over-estimating  our 
points  of  difference,  and  under-estimating  our  points  of 
agreement.  1  am  by  no  means  indifferent  to  truth  and 
error,  and  hold  my  own  opinions  as  decidedly  as  any 
man ;  which  of  course  implies  a  conviction  that  the 
opposite  opinions  are  erroneous.  In  many  cases,  I 
tbink  them  not  only  erroneous,  but  mischievous ;  still 
they  exist  in  men,  whom  1  know  to  be  thoroughly  in 
earnest,  fearing  God  and  loving  Christ,  and  it  seems  to 
me  to  be  a  waste  of  time,  which  we  can  ill  afford,  and 
a  sort  of  quarrel  "by  the  way,"  which  our  Christian 
vow  of  enmity  against  moral  evil  makes  utterly  un- 
seasonable, when  Christians  suspend  their  great  busi- 
ness and  loosen  the  bond  of  their  union  with  each  other 
by  venting  fruitless  regrets  and  complaints  against  one 
another's  errors,  instead  of  labouring  to  lessen  one 
another's  sins.  For  coldness  of  spirit,  and  negligence 
of  our  duty,  and  growing  worldliness,  are  things  which 
we  should  thank  our  friends  for  warning  us  against ; 
bdt  when  they  quarrel  with  our  opinions,  which  we 
conscientiously  hold,  it  merely  provokes  us  to  justify 
ourselves,  and   to  insist  that  we  are  right  and  they 

wrong. 

i&n.  Life,  p.aB» 

ai.  If,  whilst  relaxing  the  theoretical  bond,  we  were  to 
tighten  the  practical  one  by  amending  the  government 


i^'^^C'*^}'.  .  ' 


*».-*' 


■i<''n:^.vf: 


W-A 


?»avt^' 


202 


EXTRACTS   FROM    THE    LIFE   AND    LKITERS. 


THEOLOGY. 


203 


and  constitution  of  the  Church,  then  I  do  believe  that 
the  fruit  would  be  Christian  union,  by  which  I  certainly 
do  not  mean  an  agreement  in  lielieving  nothing,  or  as 
little  as  we  can.  Mean  time,  I  wish  to  remind  you 
that  one  of  St.  Paul's  favourite  notions  of  heresy  is, 
•*a  doting  about  strifes  of  words."  One  side  may 
be  right  in  such  a  strife,  and  the  other  wrong,  but 
both  are  heretical  as  to  Christianity,  because  they  lead 
men's  minds  away  from  the  love  of  God  and  of  Christ, 
to  questions  essentially  tempting  to  the  intellect,  and 
which  tend  to  no  profit  towards  godliness.  And  again 
I  think  you  will  find  that  all  the  "false  doctrines" 
spoken  of  by  the  Apostles,  are  doctrines  of  sheer 
wickedness ;  that  their  counterpart  in  modem  times  is 
to  be  found  in  the  Anabaptists  of  Munster,  or  the 
Fifth  ^lonarchy  Men,  or  in  mere  secular  High  Church- 
men, or  hypocritical  Evangelicals, — in  those  who  make 
Christianity  minister  to  lust,  or  to  covetousness,  or  to 
ambition ;  not  in  those  who  interpret  Scripture  to  the 
best  of  their  conscience  and  ability,  be  their  interpreta- 
tion ever  so  erroneous. 

22.  Excommunication  ought  to  be  the  expression  of 
the  public  opinion  of  Christian  society ;  and  the  line  of 
oifences  to  be  censured  seems  to  me  very  much  marked 
out  by  the  distinction  between  sins  against  the  Son  of 
Man,  and  sins  against  the  Holy  Ghost.  Obscene 
publications  are  of  the  latter  character,  and  are  actually 
under  the  ban  of  Christian  public  opinion  :  and  in 
proportion  as  the  Church  became  more  perfect,  errors 
of  opinion  and  unbelief,  which  are  now  only  sins 
against  the  Son  of  Man,  would  then  become  sins 
against   the   Holy  Ghost,   becnM«n    then   the   outward 


profession  of  Christianity  would  have  become  identical 
with  moral  goodness. 

\KV2.    Life,  p.  2:i7. 

23.  Other  Christian  sects  are  not  all  error,  nor  we 
all  truth ;  e.  g.  the  Quakers  reject  the  communion  of 
the  Lord's  Supper,  thereby  losing  a  great  means  of 
grace :  but  are  they  not  tempted  to  do  so  by  the  super- 
stitions which  other  Christians  have  heaped  upon  the 
institution,  and  is  there  not  some  taint  of  these  in  the 
exhortation  even  in  our  own  Communion  service  ?  And 
with  regard  to  the  greatest  truths  of  all,  you  know  how 
Pelagianism  and  Calvinism  have  encouraged  each  other, 
and  how  the  Athanasian  Creed,  at  this  dav,  confirms 
and  aggravates  the  evils  of  Unitarianism.  .... 

These  men  have  an  advantage  over  us,  xiyu  xar' 
a»9pwwor,  which  the  Catholics  had  over  the  Protestants : 
they  taxed  them  with  damnable  heresy,  and  pronounced 
tlieir  salvation  impossible.  The  Protestants  in  return 
only  charged  them  with  error  and  superstition,  till 
some  of  the  hotter  sort,  impatient  of  such  an  unequal 
rejoinder,  bethought  themselves  of  retorting  with  the 
charge  of  damnable  idolatry.  But  still  I  think  that  we 
have  the  best  of  it,  in  not  letting  what  we  firmly 
believe  to  be  error  and  ignorance  shake  our  sense  of 
that  mightier  bond  of  union,  which  exists  between  all 
those  who  love  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  in  sincerity; 
perhaps  I  should  say,  in  not  letting  our  sense  of  the 
magnitude  of  the  error  lead  us  to  question  the  sincerity 
of  the  love. 

I  must  conclude  with  a  more  delightful  subject — my 
most  dear  and  blessed  sister.     I  never  saw  a  more 


i-s^'hSl.t*;! 


1_     ,;.l. 


f   ■ 
I 


.-"i; 


BSBSiStt^iJiftiiiSStoi^  ■:':.::^^:£i'iMmsmmmmisSii~ 


•AissEsAittliCi- 


^^^^y^''-^'if-r--^r^K^^<:^^m^^sw^ 


s«*as!sP5q 


204 


EXTRACTS    FROM   THE   LIFE    AND    LETTERS. 


perfect  instance  of  the  spirit  of  power  and  of  love,  and 
of  a  sound  mind ;  intense  love,  almost  to  the  annihila- 
lation  of  selfishness — a  daily  martyrdom  for  twenty 
years,  during  which  she  adhered  to  her  early-formed 
resolution  of  never  talking  about  herself;  thoughtful 
about  the  very  pins  and  ribands  of  my  wife's  dress, 
about  the  making  of  a  dolls  cap  for  a  child, — but  of 
herself,  save  only  as  regarded  her  ripening  in  all  good- 
ness, wholly  thoughtless,  enjoying  everything  lovely, 
graceful,  beautiful,  high-minded,  whether  in  God's 
works  or  man's,  with  the  keenest  relish ;  inheriting  the 
earth  to  the  very  fulness  of  the  promise,  though  never 
leaving  her  crib,  nor  changing  her  posture ;  and  pre- 
served through  the  very  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death, 
from  all  fear  or  impatience,  or  from  every  cloud  of 
impaired  reason,  which  might  mar  the  beauty  of  Christ's 
Spirit's  glorious  work.  May  God  grant  that  1  might 
come  but  within  one  hundred  degrees  of  her  place  in 
glory. 

24.  Chkistlvn  Doctrine. 

I^<l.    Life,  p.  400. 

The  Apostles'  Creed  may  be  taken  as  a  specimen 
of  truths  held  by  the  general  consent  of  Christians; 
for  everything  there  (except  the  Descent  into  Hell, 
which  was  a  later  insertion)  is  in  almost  the  very 
words  of  Scripture.  It  is  just  like  St.  Paul's  short 
creed  in  I  Corinthians  xv. :  "I  delivered  unto  you 
that  which  I  received,  how  that  Christ  died  for  our  sins 
according  to  the  Scriptures,  and  was  buried,"  &c.  But 
this  Creed  says  not  a  word  of  priesthood  or  succession, 
— it  does  not  even  say  a  word  of  either  Sacrament. 


THEOLOGY. 


205 


The   points   for  which  needs  the  consent  of 

the  Church,  are  points  on  which  the  principal  ecclesi- 
astical writers  had  all    a   manifest  bias;    partly  from 
their  own  position  as  ministers,  partly  from  the  super- 
stitious tendencies  of  their  age.     And  after  all  how 
few  are  those  writers!     Who  would  think  of  making 
out  the  universal  consent  of  the  Christian  world  from 
the    language  of   ten    or   a   dozen    bishops    or   clergy 
who   happened   to  be  writers?      Who  will   b^ar  wit- 
ness   to    the   opinions    of    the    Bithynian    Church,   of 
whose  practice  Pliny  has  left  so  beautiful  a  picture? 
Or  who  would  value  for  any  Church,  or  for  any  opinion, 
the    testimony  of  such   a   man  as  Tertullian?     But, 
after  all,   consent  would  go  for  nothing   where   it  is 
so  clearly  against  Scripture.     All  in  Asia  were  turned 
away  from  Paul,  even   in  his  lifetime.      No  wonder, 
then,  if  after  his  death  they  could  not  bear  his  doc- 
trines, and  undermined  them  while  they  were  obliged 
outwardly  to  honour  them.     The  operation  of  mate- 
rial agency  to  produce  a  spiritual  effect  is  not  more 
opposed  to  reason  than  it  is  directly  denied  by  our  Lord, 
on  grounds  which  would  rationalistic,  if  I  were  to  use 
them.     I  refer  to  what  He  says  of  the  impossibility  of 
meat  defiling  a  man,  or  water  purifying  him. 

25.  Ours  being  the  dispensation  of  the  fulness  of 
times,  a  new  system  is  with  us  not  to  be  looked  for ;  and, 
if  we  hold  fast  the  principles  of  the  Gospel,  we  have  no 
other  object  to  look  to  than  that  great  one,  which  indeed 
has  been  enoughneglected,— the  working  out  and  carry- 
ing into  all  earthly  institutions  the  practical  fruits  of 
these  principles.  I  have  always  thought  that  the 
Quakers   stand  nobly   distinguished   from    the   multi- 


^^i^-yf^f^W^^^W^^^^^^i 


206 


EXTRACTS   FROM   THE   UFE   AND    LETTERS. 


TTIKOLOGY. 


207 


ft; 


tude  of  fanatics,  by  seizing  the  true  point  of  Christian 
advancement, — the  development  of  the  principles  of 
the  Gospel  in  the  moral  improvement  of  mankind.  It 
is  a  grievous  pity  that  some  foolishnesses  should 
have  so  marred  their  eflQciency,  or  their  efforts  against 
wars  and  oaths  would  sun  ]v  ore  this  have  been  more 
successful. 

2G.  Subscription. 

IKtl).    Life,  p.  .IIU. 

I  have  been  satisfied  now  for  many  years, — and 
wonder  almost  that  I  ever  could  have  been  otherwise, 
— that  Ordination  was  never  meant  to  be  closed  against 
those  who,  having  been  conscientious  members  of  the 
Church  before,  and  wishing  in  larnest  to  be  ministers 
of  the  Church  now,  holding  its  truths  and  sympathizing 
in  its  spirit,  yet  cannot  yield  an  active  belief  to  the  words 
of  every  part  of  the  Articles  and  Liturgy  as  true,  with- 
out qualitication  or  explanation.  And  I  think  so  on 
historical  as  well  as  on  a  priori  grounds ;  on  historical, 
— from  the  fact  that  the  subscriptions  were  made  more 
stringent  in  their  form  to  meet  the  case  of  those  whose 
minds,  or  rather  tempers,  were  so  uncomplying,  that 
they  would  use  in  the  service  of  the  Church  no  expres- 
sions which  they  did  not  approve  of;  and  therefore  the 
party  in  power,  to  secure  the  conformity,  required  a 
pledge  of  approbation ; — and  also  from  the  expressed 
opinion  of  Bull,  Usher,  and  others ;  opinions  not  at  all 
to  be  taken  to  such  an  extent  as  if  the  Articles  were 
Articles  of  peace  merely,  but  abundantly  asserting  that 
a  whole  Church  never  can  be  expected  to  agree  in  the 
absolute  truth  of  such  a  number  of  propositions  as  are 


contained  in  the  Articles  and  Liturgy.  This  consider- 
ation seems  to  me  also  decisive  on  a  priori  grounds. 
For  otherwise  the  Church  could  by  necessity  receive 
into  the  ministry  only  men  of  dull  minds  or  dull  con- 
sciences; of  dull,  nay  almost  of  dishonest  minds,  if 
they  can  persuade  themselves  that  they  actually  agree 
in  every  minute  particular  with  any  great  number  of 
human  propositions ;  of  dull  consciences,  if,  exercising 
iheir  minds  freely  and  yet  believing  that  the  Church 
requires  the  total  adhesion  of  the  understanding,  they 
still,  for  considerations  of  their  own  convenience,  enter 
into  the  ministry  in  her  despite. 

It  may  be  said  that  this  makes  the  degree  of  adhesion 
required  indefinite.  And  so  it  must  be:  yet  these 
things,  so  seemingly  indefinite,  are  not  really  so  to  an 
honest  and  sensible  mind ;  for  such  a  mind  knows 
whether  it  is  really  in  sympathy  with  the  Church  in 
its  main  faith  and  feelings ;  and,  if  it  be  not,  then  sub- 
scription would  indeed  be  deceitful;  but,  if  it  be,  to 
refuse  subscription  would,  I  think,  be  at  once  unjust  to 
the  Church  and  to  itself. 

27.  Wants  of  English  Theology. 

1835.    Life,  p.  ai7. 

My  notion  of  the  main  objects  of  a  Theological  He- 
view  would  be  this :  1  st.  To  give  really  fair  accounts  and 
analyses  of  the  works  of  the  early  Christian  Writers, 
giving  also,  so  far  as  possible,  a  correct  view  of  the 
critical  questions  relating  to  them ;  as  to  their  genuine- 
ness, and  the  -more  or  less  corrupted  state  of  the  text. 
2nd.  To  make  some  beginnings  of  Biblical  Criticism, 


<*J   'J 


^ij§asS^' 


«;  i  fl^l''r^£^?T^'-'<i  * . . 


.';s^/i^7rr??^.T?n.-i,--!.?7-->r/fT,^;^s« 


><rft: 


ti08 


EXTRACTS   FfiOM   THE   UF£   AND   LETTEBS. 


THEOLOGY. 


209 


which,  as  far  as  relates  to  the  Old  Testament,  is  in  Eng- 
land almost  non-existent.  3rd.  To  illustrate  in  a  reallv 
impartial  spirit,  with  no  object  but  the  advancement  of 
the  Church  of  Christ,  and  the  welfare  of  the  Common- 
wealth of  England,  the  rise  and  progress  of  Dissent;  to 
show  what  Christ's  Church  and  this  nation  have  owed 
to  the  Establishment  and  to  the  Dissenters ;  and,  on 
the  other  hand,  what  injury  they  have  received  from 
each ;  with  a  view  of  promoting  a  real  union  between 
them.  These  are  matters  particular,  but  all  bearinfj 
upon  the  great  philosophical  and  Christian  truth,  which 
seems  to  me  the  very  truth  of  truths,  that  Christian 
unity  and  the  perfection  of  Christ's  Church  are  in- 
dependent of  theological  Articles  of  opinion  ;  consisting 
in  a  certain  moral  state  and  moral  and  religious  affec- 
tions, which  have  existed  in  good  Christians  of  all  ages 
and  all  communions,  along  with  an  infinitely-varying 
proportion  of  truth  and  error ;  that  thus  Christ's  Church 
has  stood  on  a  rock  and  never  failed ;  yet  has  always 
been  marred  with  much  of  intellectual  error,  and  also 
of  practical  resulting  from  the  intellectual ;  that  to  talk 
of  Popery  as  the  great  Apostacy,  and  to  look  for 
Christ's  Church  only  amongst  the  remnant  of  the 
Vaudois,  is  as  absurd  as  to  look  to  what  is  called  the 
Primitive  Church  or  the  Fathers  for  pure  models  of 
faith  in  the  sense  of  opinion  or  of  government;  that 
Ignatius  and  Innocent  III.  are  to  be  held  as  men  of 
the  same  stamp, — zealous  and  earnest  Christians  both 
of  them,  but  both  of  them  overbearing  and  fond  of 
power;  the  one  advancing  the  power  of  Bishops,  the 
other  that  of  the  Pope,  with  equal  honesty, — it  may  be. 
for  their  respective  times,  with  equal  benefit, — but  with 


as  little  claim  the  one  as  the  other  to  be  an  authority 
for  Christians,  and  with  equally  little  impartial  percep- 
tion of  universal  truth. 

28.  The  Church. 

1890.    Life,  p.  214. 

Have  you  ever  cleariy  defined  to  yourself  what  you 
mean  by  '*  one  society,"  as  applied  to  the  whole  Chris- 
tian Church  upon  earth  ?  It  seems  to  me  that  most  of 
what  I  consider  the  errors  about  '*  the  Church,"  turn 
upon  an  imperfect  understanding  of  this  point.  In  one 
sense,  and  that  a  very  important  one,  all  Christians 
belong  to  one  society ;  but  then  it  is  more  like  Cicero's 
sense  of  "  societas,"  than  what  we  mean  by  a  society. 
There  is  a  "societas  generis  humani,"  and  a  "societas 
hominum  Christianorum ; "  but  there  is  not  one  "  res. 
publica"  or  "civitas"  of  either,  but  a  great  many. 
The  Roman  Catholics  say  there  is  but  one  "  respublica," 
and  therefore,  with  perfect  consistency,  they  say  that 
there  must  be  one  central  government :  our  Article,  if 
I  mistake  not  its  sense,  says,  and  with  great  truth, 
that  the  Christian  Respublica  depends  on  the  political 
Respublica;  that  is,  that  there  may  be  at  least  as  many 
Christian  societies  as  there  are  political  societies,  and 
that  there  may  be,  and  in  our  own  kingdom  are, 
even  more.  If  there  be  one  Christian  society,  in  the 
common  sense  of  the  word,  there  must  be  one  govern- 
ment; whereas,  in  point  of  fact,  the  Scotch  Church, 
the  English  Church,  and  the  French  Church,  have  all 
separate  and  perfectly  independent  governments;  and 
consequently  can  only  be  in  an  unusual  and  peculiar 


^YtlV' 


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.!    ■    ^■.'■>J 


(,-•- 


2J0         EXTRACTS    FROM   THE    LIFE    AND   LETTERS. 

sense  "  one  society :  **  that  is,  spiritually  one,  as  having 
the  same  objects  and  the  same  principles,  and  the  same 
supports,  and  the  same  enemies. 

UBO.    Life.  p.  490. 

29.  To  have  a  ministry  in  the  Church  is  a  great 
honour  and  a  great  responsibility ;  yet  in  both  is  it  far  in- 
ferior to  the  privilege  of  being  a  member  of  the  Church. 
In  our  heavenly  commonwealth  the  Jus  Civitatis  is  a 
thousand  times  greater  than  the  Jus  llonorum ;  and  he 
who  most  magnifies  the  solemnity  of  Baptism,  will  be 
inclined  to  value  most  truly  the  far  inferior  solemnity 
of  Ordination. 

1837.    Life,  p.  171. 

80.  When  T  hear  men  talk  of  the  Church  I  cannot 
help  recalling  how  Abbe  Sieyes  replied  to  the  question, 
"What  is  the  Tiers  Etat?"  by  saying  "  La  nation  moins 
la  noblesse  et  le  clerge;"  and  so  I,  if  I  were  asked, 
What  are  the  laity  ?  would  answer,  the  Church  minus 
the  Clergy.  This  is  the  view  taken  of  the  Church  in 
the  New  Testament ;  can  it  be  said  that  it  is  the  view 
held  amongst  ourselves,  and  if  not,  is  not  the  diifer- 
ence  incalculable  ? 

31.  The  Scripture  notion  of  the  Church  is,  that  reli- 
gious society  should  help  a  man  to  become  himself  better 
and  holier,  just  as  civil  society  helps  us  in  civilization. 
But  in  this  great  end  of  a  Church,  all  Churches  are 
now  greatly  defective,  while  all  fill  it  up  to  a  certain 
degree,  some  less,  others  more.  In  proportion  as  they 
fulfil  it  less  perfectly,  so  all  that  is  said  in  Scripture  of 
divisions,  sects,  <S:c.,  becomes  less  applicable.     It  is  a 


THEOLOGY. 


211 


great  fault  to  introduce  division  into  an  unanimous  and 
efficient  society ;  but  when  the  social  bond  is  all  but 
dissolved,  and  the  society  is  no  more  than  nominal, 
there  is  no  such  thing,  properly  speaking,  as  creating 
a  division  in  it.  In  this  simple  and  Scriptural  view  of 
the  matter,  all  is  plain ;  we  were  not  to  derive  our  sal- 
vation through  or  from  the  Church,  but  to  be  kept  or 
strengthened  in  the  way  of  salvation  by  the  aid  and  ex- 
ample of  our  fellow  Christians,  who  were  to  be  formed 
into  societies  for  this  very  reason,  that  they  might  help 
one  another,  and  not  leave  each  man  to  fight  his  own 
fight  alone. 

32.  Church  of  Ekgland. 

183a.    Life,  p.  292. 

It  has  always  seemed  to  me  that  an  extreme  fondness 
for  our  "  dear  mother  the  panther,"  is  a  snare,  to  which 
the  noblest  minds  are  most  liable.  It  seems  to  me 
that  all,  absolutely  all,  of  our  religious  affections  and 
veneration  should  go  to  Christ  Himself,  and  that  Pro- 
testantism, Catholicism,  and  every  other  name,  which 
expresses  Christianity  and  some  differentia  or  proprium 
besides,  is  so  far  an  evil,  and,  when  made  an  object  of 
attachment,  leads  to  superstition  and  error.  Then, 
descending  from  religious  grounds  to  human,  I  think 
that  one's  natural  and  patriotic  sympathies  can  hardly 
be  too  strong ;  but,  historically,  the  Church  of  England 
is  surely  of  a  motley  complexion,  with  much  of  good 
about  it,  and  much  of  evil,  no  more  a  fit  subject  for 
enthusiastic  admiration  than  for  violent  obloquy.  I 
honour  and  sympathize  entirely  with  the  feelings  enter- 
tained;  I   only   think   that   they   might   all   of  them 

p  2 


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01  o 


EXTRACTS  FROM  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS. 


select  a  worthier  object;  that,  whether  they  he  pious 
and  devout,  or  patriotic,  or  romantic,  or  of  whatever 
class  soever,  there  is  for  each  and  all  of  these  a  true 
object  on  which  they  may  fasten  without  danger  and 
with  infinite  benefit:  for  surely  the  feeling  of  entire 
love  and  admiration  is  one,  which  we  cannot  safely  part 
with,  and  there  are  provided,  by  ^--^'s  goodness,  worthy 
and  perfect  objects  of  it ;  but  these  can  never  be  human 
institutions,  which,  being  necessarily  full  of  imper- 
fection, require  to  be  viewed  with  an  impartial  judg- 
ment, not  idolized  by  an  uncritical  affection.  And  that 
common  metaphor  about  our  "  Mother  the  Church,*'  is 
unscriptural  and  mischievous,  because  the  feelings  of 
entire  filial  reverence  and  love  which  we  owe  to  a 
parent,  we  do  not  owe  to  our  fellow  Christians ;  we  owe 
them  brotherly  love,  meekness,  readiness  to  bear,  &c., 
but  not  filial  reverence,  "to  them  I  gave  place  by 
subjection,  no  not  for  an  hour."  Now,  if  I  were  a 
Utilitarian.  I  should  not  care  for  what  I  think  a  mis- 
application of  the  noblest  feelings ;  for  then  I  should 
not  care  for  the  danger  to  which  this  misapplication 
exposes  the  feelings  themselves;  but  as  it  is,  I  dread 
to  see  the  evils  of  the  Reformation  of  the  ICth  century 
repeated  over  again;  superstition  provoking  profane- 
ness,  and  ignorance  and  violence  on  one  side  leading 
to  equal  ignorance  and  violence  on  the  other,  to  the 
equal  injury  of  both  truth  and  love. 

IMl.    Life,  p.  564. 

33.  I  suppose  it  is  that  men's  individual  constitution 
of  mind  determines  them  greatly,  when  great  questions 
are  brought  to  a  clear  issue.     You  have  often  accused 


THEOLOGY. 


213 


me  of  not  enough  valuing  the  Church  of  England, — 
the  very  charge  which  1  should  now  be  inclined  to 
retort  against  you.     And  in  both  instances  the  charge 
would  have  a  true  foundation.     Viewing  the  Church  of 
England  as  connected  with  the  Stuart  Kings,  and  as 
opposing  the  '*  good  old  cause,"  I  bear  it  no  affection  ; 
viewing   it  as   a   great   reformed   institution,   and  as 
proclaiming  the  King  s  supremacy,  and  utterly  denying 
the   binding  authority  of  General  Councils,  and  the 
necessity  of  priestly  mediation,  you  perhaps  would  feel 
less  attached  to  it  than  I  am.     For,  after  all,  those 
differences  in  men's  minds  which  we  express,  when 
exemplified  in  English  politics,  by  the  terms  Whig  and 
Tory,  are  very  deep  and  comprehensive,  and  1  should 
much  like  to  be  able  to  discover  a  formula  which  would 
express  them  in  their  most  abstract  shape ;  they  seem 
10  me  to  be  the  great  fundamental  difference  between 
thinking  men ;  but  yet  it  is  certain  that  each  of  these 
two  great   divisions  of  mankind   apprehends  a  truth 
strongly,  and   the   Kingdom   of  God  will,   I   suppose, 
show  us  the  perfect  reconciling  of  the  truth  held  by 
each.    We  ought  not  to  lose  the  consciousness  of  the 
fact,  that  the  two  great  divisions  of  which  I  spoke  are 
ccrUiiidy  not  synonymous  with   the  division  between 
good  and  evil;  that  some  of  the  best  and  wisest  of 
mortal  men  are  to  be  found  with  each ;  nay,  that  He 
who  18  our  perfect  example,   unites  in   Himself  and 
sanctions  the  truths  most  loved,  and  the  spirit  most 
sympathized  in  by  each;  wherefore,  1  do  not  think 
that  either  is  justified  in  denouncing  the  other  alto- 
gether, or  renouncing  friendship  with  it. 


214         EXTRACTS    FROM   THE    LIFE    AND    LETTERS. 

84.  There  might  be  a  series  of  "  Church  of  England 
Tracts,"  which,  after  establishing  again  the  supreme 
rtiithority  of  Scripture  and  reason,  against  Tmdition, 
Councils,  and  Fathers,  and  showing  that  reason  is  not 
rationalism,  should  tlien  take  two  lines,  the  one  negative, 
the  other  positive ;  the  negative  one,  showing  that  the 
pretended  unity,  which  has  always  been  the  idol  of 
Judaizers,  is  worthless,  impracticable, — and  the  pursuit 
of  it  has  split  Christ's  Church  into  a  thousand  sects, 
and  will  keep  it  so  split  for  ever :  the  other  positive, 
showing  that  the  true  unity  is  most  precious,  practi- 
cable, and  has  in  fact  been  never  lost;  that  at  all  times 
and  in  all  countries,  there  has  been  a  succession  of 
men,  enjoying  the  blessings  and  showing  forth  the 
fruits  of  Christ's  spirit :  that  in  their  lives,  and  in  what 
is  tnily  their  religion, — i.  e.  in  their  prayers  and 
hymns — there  hn^  been  a  wonderful  unity;  that  all 
sects  have  had  uxuungst  them  the  marks  of  Christ's 
Catholic  Church,  in  the  graces  of  His  Spirit,  and  the 
Confession  of  His  name ;  for  which  purpose  it  mi^lit 
be  useful  to  give,  side  by  side,  the  martyrdoms,  mis- 
sionary labours,  &c.,of  Catholics  and  Arians,  Romanists 
and  Protestants,  Churchmen  and  Dissenters.  Here  is 
a  grand  field,  giving  room  for  learning,  for  eloquence, 
for  acuteness,  for  judgment,  and  for  a  true  love  of 
Christ. 

35.  I  look  to  the  full  development  of  the  Christian 
Church  in  its  perfect  form,  as  the  Kingdom  of  God, 
for  the  most  effective  removal  of  all  evil,  and  promo- 


TIIF-OLOGY. 


215 


tion   of  all  good:    and  I  can    understand    no  perfect 
Church,  or  perfect  State,  without  their  blending  into 
one  in  this  ultimate  form.      I  believe,   farther,    that 
our   fathers   at    the    Reformation  stumbled   accident- 
ally, or  rather  were  unconsciously  led  by  God's  Pro- 
vidence, to  the  declaration  of  the   great  principle  of 
this  system,  the  doctrine  of  the  King's  Supremacy;— 
which  is,  in  fact,  no  other  than  an  assertion  of  the 
supremacy  of  the  Church  or  Christian  society  over  the 
clergy,  and  a  denial  of  that  which  1  hold  to  be  one  of 
the  most  mischievous  falsehoods  ever  broached,— that 
the  government  of  the  Christian  Church  is  vested  by 
divine  right  in  the  clergy,  and  that  the  close  corporation 
of  bishops  and  presbyters,— whether  one  or  more,  makes 
no  difference,— is  and  ever  ought  to  be  the  represen- 
tative of  the  Christian  Church.     Holding  this  doctrine 
as  the  very  corner-stone  of  all  my  political  belief,  I  am 
equally  opposed  to  Popery,  High  Churchism,  and  the 
claims  of  the  Scotch  Presbyteries,  on  the  one  hand ; 
and  to  all  the  Independents,  and  advocates  of  the  sepa 
ration,   as  they  call  it,  of  Church  and  State,  on  the 
other ;   the  first  setting  up  a  Priesthood  in  the  place  of 
the  Church,  and   the   other  lowering  necessarily  the 
objects  of  Law  and  Government,  and  reducing  them  to 
a  mere  system  of  police,  while  they  profess  to  wish  to 
make  the  Church  purer.     And  my  fondness  for  Greek 
and  German  literature  has  made  me  very  keenly  alive 
to  the  mental  defects  of  the  Dissenters  as  a  body  ;  the 
characteristic  faults  of  the  English  mind,— narrowness 
of  view,  and  a  want  of  learning  and  a  sound  critical 
spirit,- being  exhibited  to  my  mind  in  the  Dissenters 
almost  in  caricature.     It  is  nothing  but  painful  to  me 


ti--' 


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■-'"w.  *i 


216         EXTRACTS    FROM   THE   UFE   AND    LETTKRS. 

to  feel  this ;  because  no  man  appreciates  more  than  I 
do  the  many  great  services  which  the  Dissenters  have 
rendered,  both  to  the  general  cause  of  Christianity,  and 
especially  to  the  cause  of  justice  and  good  government 
in  our  own  country  ;  and  my  sense  of  the  far  less  excu- 
sable errors,  and  almost  uniformly  mischievous  conduct 
of  the  High  Church  party,  is  as  strong  as  it  can  be  of 
any  one  thing  in  the  world. 

30.  Our  Church  now  has  a  strict  bond  in  matters  of 
opinion,  and  none  at  all  in  matters  of  practice ;  which 
seems  to  me  a  double  error.  .  The  Apostles  began  with 
the  most  general  of  all  bonds  in  point  of  opinion— the 
simple  confession  that  Jesus  was  the  Son  of  God— not 
that  they  meant  to  rest  there ;  but  that,  if  you  organize 
and  improve  the  Church  morally,  you  will  improve  its 
tone  theoretically  ;  till  you  get  an  agreement  in  what  is 
essential  Christian  principle,  and  a  perfect  tolerance  of 
differences  in  unessential  opinions.  But  now,  the  true 
and  grand  idea  of  a  Church,  that  is,  a  society  for  the 
purpose  of  making  men  like  Christ, — earth  like  heaven, 
— the  kingdoms  of  the  world  the  kingdom  of  Christ,— 
is  all  lost ;  and  men  look  upon  it  as  "  an  institution  for 
religious  instruction  and  religious  worship,"  thus 
robbing  it  of  its  life  and  universality,  making  it  an 
affair  of  clerg}%  not  of  people— of  preaching  and  cere- 
monies, not  of  living — of  Sundays  and  synagogues, 
instead  of  one  of  all  days  and  all  places,  houses,  streets, 
towns,  and  country. 


PRATERS.  917 

PRAYERS. 

1.  Prayer  for  School. 

Life,  p.  102. 

0  Lord,  who  by  Thy  Holy  Apostle,  has  taught  us  to  do 
all  things  in  the  name  of  the  Lord  Jesus  and  to  Thy 
glory,  give  Thy  blessing,  we  pray  Thee,  to  this  our 
daily  work,  that  we  may  do  it  in  faith,  and  heartily,  as 
to  the  Lord  and  not  unto  men.  All  our  powers  of 
body  and  mind  are  Thine,  and  we  would  fain  devote 
them  to  Thy  service.  Sanctify  them  and  the  work  in 
which  they  are  engaged;  let  us  not  be  slothful,  but 
fer>'ent  in  spirit,  and  do  Thou,  0  Lord,  so  bless  our 
efforts  that  they  may  bring  forth  in  us  the  fruits  of 
true  wisdom.  Strengthen  the  faculties  of  our  minds 
and  dispose  us  to  exert  them,  but  let  us  always  re- 
member to  exert  them  for  Thy  glory,  and  for  the 
furtherance  of  Thy  kingdom,  and  save  us  from  all 
pride,  and  vanity,  and  reliance  upon  our  own  power  or 
wisdom.  Teach  us  to  seek  after  truth,  and  enable  us  to 
gain  it ;  but  grant  that  we  may  ever  speak  the  truth  in 
love : — that,  while  we  know  earthly  things,  we  may 
know  Thee,  and  be  known  by  Thee,  through  and  in 
Thy  Son  Jesus  Christ.  Give  us  this  day  Thy  Holy 
Spirit,  that  we  may  be  Thine  in  body  and  spirit  in  all 
our  work  and  all  our  refreshments,  through  Jesus 
Chiist  Thy  Son,  our  Lord. 

2.  Prayer  for  the  Country  and  Government. 

Life,  p.  634. 

0  Lord,  who  by  Thy  Holy  Apostle  hast  commanded 
us  to  make  prayers  and  intercessions  for  all  men,  we 


1^ 


•■t. 


■■   (• 


m:^.^ifw^%-::  ^^^wm^^m^^^^- 


218 


EXTRACTS   FROM   TBE    LIFh   ,\Su    LETTERS. 


PR.\.YERS. 


219 


implore  Thy  blessing,  moi,,  ..^peciallv  upon  this  our 
countrA',  upon  its  government,  and  upon  its  people. 

May  Thj  Holy  Spirit  be  with  our  rulers,  with  the 
Queen,  and  all  who  are  in  authority  under  her.  Grant 
that  tliey  may  govern  in  Thy  faith  and  fear,  striving  to 
put  down  all  evil,  and  to  encourage  and  support  all  that 
is  good.  Give  Thy  Spirit  of  wisdom  to  those  whose 
business  it  is  to  make  laws  for  us.  Grant  that  they 
may  understand  and  feel  how  great  a  work  Thou  hast 
given  them  to  do;  that  they  may  not  do  it  lightly  or 
foolishly,  or  from  any  evil  passion,  or  in  ignorance,  but 
gravely,  soberly,  and  with  a  godly  spirit,  enacting 
always  things  just,  and  things  wise,  and  things  merciful, 
to  the  putting  away  of  all  wrong  and  oppression,  and  to 
the  advancement  of  the  true  welfare  of  Thy  people. 
Give  to  us  and  all  this  nation  a  spirit  of  dutiful 
obedience  to  the  laws,  not  only  for  wrath,  but  also  for 
conscience  sake.  Teach  us  to  remember  Thy  Apostles 
charge,  to  render  to  all  their  dues,  tribute  to  whom 
tribute  is  due,  custom  to  whom  custom,  not  defrauding 
or  suffering  to  defraud  those  who  in  the  receiving  of 
custom  and  tribute  are  thy  ministers,  attending  con- 
tinually upon  this  very  thing. 

Give  peace  in  our  time,  O  Lord.  Preserve  both  us 
and  our  government  from  the  evil  spirit  of  ambition  and 
pride,  and  teach  us  to  value,  and  to  labour  with  idl 
sincerity  to  preserve,  peace  with  all  nations;  not  in- 
dulging in  taunts  and  railings  against  other  people,  but 
showing  forth  a  spirit  of  meekness,  as  becomes  those 
who  call  themselves  Christ's  sen'ants.  Save  us  from 
all  those  national  sins  which  e  ^  t  justly  to 

Thy  heavy  judgments.    From  unbelief  and  profaneness, 


from  injustice  and  oppression,  from  hardness  of  heart 
and  neglect  of  the  poor,  from  a  careless  and  worldly 
spirit,  working  and  enjoying  with  no  thought  of  Thee, 
from  these  and  all  other  sins,  be  Thou  pleased  to 
preserve  us,  and  give  us  each  one  for  himself  a  holy 
watchfulness,  that  we  may  not  by  our  sins  add  to  the 
guilt  and  punishment  of  our  country,  but  may  strive  to 
keep  ourselves  pure  from  the  blood  of  all  men,  and  to 
bring  down  Thy  blessing  upon  ourselves  and  all  who 
belong  to  us. 

These  things,  and  all  else  which  may  be  good  for  our 
temporal  and  for  our  spiritual  welfare,  we  humbly 
beseech  Thee  to  grant  in  the  name,  and  for  the  sake  of 
Thy  dear  Son,  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord. 

3.    DiAKY. 
Life,  p.  007. 

May  22, 1 8 12. — I  am  now  within  a  few  weeks  of  com- 
pleting my  forty-seventh  year.  Am  I  not  old  enough 
to  view  life  as  it  is,  and  to  contemplate  steadily  its 
end, — what  it  is  coming  to,  and  must  come  to — what 
all  things  are  without  God?  I  know  that  my  senses 
are  on  the  very  eve  of  becoming  weaker,  and  that  my 
faculties  will  then  soon  begin  to  decline  too, — whether 
rapidly  or  not  I  know  not — but  they  will  decline.  Is 
there  not  one  faculty  which  never  declines,  which  is 
the  seed  and  the  seal  of  immortality;  and  what  has 
become  of  that  faculty  in  me  ?  What  is  it  to  live  unto 
God?  May  God  open  my  eyes  to  see  Him  by  faith,  in 
and  through  His  Son  Jesus  Christ;  may  He  draw  me 
to  Him,  and  keep  me  with  Him,  making  His  will  my 
will.  His  love  my  love,  His  strength  my  strength,  and 


IM 


'     i.  ''         ■"  ■ 


.v- 


J220 


EXTRACTS    FROM    THt    Lit*:    AND    LtriEHS. 


PRAYERS. 


Q21 


!■>-' 


may  He  make  me  feel  that  pretended  strength,  not 
derived  from  Him,  is  no  strength,  but  the  worst  weak- 
ness.    May  His  strength  be  perfected  in  my  weakness. 

May  25,  1842. — 0  Lord,  keep  Thyself  present  to 
me  always,  and  teach  nie  to  come  to  Thee  by  the 
One  and  Living  Way,  Thy  Son  Jesus  Christ.  Keep 
me  humble  and  gentle.  2.  Self-denying.  3.  Firm 
and  patient.  4.  Active.  5.  Wise  to  know  Thy  will, 
and  to  discern  the  truth.  6.  Loving,  that  I  may  learn 
to  resemble  Thee  and  my  Saviour.  O  Lord,  forgive 
me  for  all  my  sins,  and  save  me  and  guide  me  and 
strengthen  me  through  Jesus  Christ. 

May  29,  1842 O  Lord,  save  me  from  idle 

words,  and  grant  that  my  heart  may  be  truly  cleansed 
and  filled  with  Thy  Holy  Sj)irit,  and  that  I  may  arise  to 
serve  Thee,  and  lie  down  to  sleep  in  entire  confidence 
in  Thee  and  submission  to  Thy  will,  ready  for  life  or 
for  death.  Let  me  live  for  the  day,  not  overcharged 
with  worldly  cares,  but  feeling  that  ray  treasure  is  not 
here,  and  desiring  truly  to  be  joined  to  Thee  in  Thy 
heavenly  kingdom,  and  to  those  who  are  already  gone 
to  Thee.  0  Lord,  let  me  wait  on  patiently;  but  do 
Thou  save  me  from  sin,  and  guide  me  with  Thy  Spirit, 
and  keep  me  with  Thee,  and  in  faithful  obedience  to 
Thee,  through  Jesus  Christ  Thy  Son  our  Lord. 

Sunday,  June  5, 1842. — I  have  been  just  looking  over 
a  newspaper,  one  of  the  most  painful  and  solemn  studies 
in  the  world,  if  it  be  read  thoughtfully.  So  much  of 
sin  and  so  much  of  suffering  in  the  world,  as  are  there 
displayed,  and  no  one  seems  able  to  remedy  either. 
And  then  the  thought  of  my  own  private  life,  so  full  of 
comforts,  is  very  startling ;  when  I  contrast  it  with  the 


lot  of  millions,  whose  portion  is  so  full  of  distress  or  of 
trouble.  May  I  be  kept  humble  and  zealous,  and  may 
God  give  me  grace  to  labour  in  my  generation  for  the 
good  of  my  brethren,  and  for  His  glory!  May  He 
keep  me  His  by  night  and  by  day,  and  strengthen  me 
to  bear  and  to  do  His  will,  through  Jesus  Christ. 

Saturday  Evening,  June  11,  1842.— The  day  after  to- 
morrow is  my  birthday,  if  I  am  permitted  to  live  to  see 
it_ray  foriy-seventh  birthday  since  my  birth.  How 
large  a  portion  of  my  life  on  earth  is  already  passed. 
And  then -what  is  to  follow  this  life?  How  visibly 
my  outward  work  seems  contracting  and  softening  away 
into  the  gentler  employments  of  old  age.  In  one 
sense,  how  nearly  can  I  now  say,  "Vixi."  And  I 
thank  God  that,  as  far  as  ambition  is  concerned,  it  is,  I 
trust,  fuUv  mortified ;  I  have  no  desire  other  than  to 
step  back  from  my  present  place  in  the  world,  and  not 
to  rise  to  a  higher.  Still  there  are  works  which,  with 
God's  permission,  I  would  do  before  the  night  cometh  ; 
especially  that  great  work,  if  I  might  be  permitted  to 
take  part  in  it.  But  above  all,  let  me  mind  my  own 
personal  work,— to  keep  myself  pure  and  zealous  and 
believing,— labouring  to  do  God*s  will,  yet  not  anxious 
that  it  should  be  done  by  me  rather  than  by  others,  if 
God  disapproves  of  my  doing  it. 


^^^^fy^^rm^tK^^^-:^^^'^^^^^^: 


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Si^lp-Bl*:: 


G.   WooDrALL  AND  So.V,   PitlNTKRS. 

AxoRL  CocRT.  Skinmkr  Strbbt,  Lunoon. 


AVOllKS   BY   THE   LATE 

THOMAS    ARNOLD,   D.D, 


SERMONS,  6  Vols.  8vo,  viz.  :— 

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SERMONS, 

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5"4>- 


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THE 


LIFE   AND    CORRESPONDENCE 


or 

THOMAS   ARNOLD,   D.D. 

BT 

A.  P.  STANLEY,  M.A., 

CANON   Of   CAKTKRBCBT,    AND   LATE   FBLLOW   AXD  TUTOR   OF   ITjrTVBBBlTT 

COLLBOR,   OXFORD. 

Seventli  Edition,  8to,  16f. 


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